Let's Be Enemies
by Ridley C. James
Summary: Mac and the team are sent on a mission with Oversight to reclaim a very important source of information. An unexpected illness will put one of their lives in grave danger and the others at odds with one another. Choices will be made that will test the limits of friendship and push the boundaries of what it truly means to be family.
1. Chapter 1

Let's Be Enemies

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Well, this was a little harder than I thought, as I found myself grieving this loss just a bit, but I am focusing on new beginnings. Since it sounds like tonight's episode is really focusing on building the bond between Matty and Mac, I figured I am not the only one who needs a reminder of the bond between Mac and Jack, one that can never be recreated or replaced. I challenge other writers to do the same this week, even if it is just a one shot or POV. Remind us. Remind everyone that Jack is who belongs at Mac's side. No one can fill his spot. So, I hope my contribution makes us all feel a little better. And Christmas is the perfect time of the year to find hope in what seems like the end. I truly believe there are good things to come, especially here in the world of fiction. Enjoy, and as always I welcome your reviews and thoughts. Thanks to Mary, who kept my wild emotions in check, although we have both decided there needs to be LOTS of hurt/comfort potential in the coming chapters to aleve all our sadness!

RCJ

" _It is good that a man's enemies want him dead, for it proves he has lived a life of worth."_

– _Forrest Carter, The Outlaw Josey Wales_

The smell of cinnamon and vanilla was downright heavenly when Jack Dalton turned the key and managed to push the door open. Christmas lights twinkled prettily around the entrance in the early dawn light. A polar bear in full on Santa swag brought a tired smile to his bruised face, his body aching with every step. Not since his last tour in the desert had the sweet relief of coming home been so apt or poignant. He could practically hear Bing Crosby crooning promises to make it back for the holidays even though technically Jack wasn't even at his place of residence, but that of his best friend's. Mac. Angus MacGyver was for all intents and purposes as much a representation of home as tinsel and presents on a tree.

Maybe it was the fact he'd been gone for weeks, that Jack had missed freaking Thanksgiving with his little family for the first time in eight years, spending it in Brazil instead of California or Texas that brought up the unusual wave of sentimentality, but he nearly wept when he dropped his go bag and caught the faint sound of Christmas music from the kitchen along with the wafting aroma of one of Bozer's infamous breakfasts.

"Anyone home?" Jack called out, knowing they weren't expecting him, especially not at 6:00 in the morning on a Saturday. He figured Bozer might still be in bed or at Leanna's place, but was oddly pleased when the music was lowered and his young teammate rounded the corner, a surprised expression quickly turning to one of welcome.

"Jack!" Bozer met the older man with one of his trademark hugs. The enthusiastic greeting nearly bowled Jack over, awaking every bump and bruise he'd gotten during the mission, including reigniting the burn in the shoulder wound he'd taken only yesterday as they finally swept the last of the drug ring they'd tagged. Bozer was as excitable as his grandparent's Labradors but Jack considered the pain worth it as a sense of familiarity and normalcy overcame his jagged nerves like a rare snowfall settling on the Texas plains. "You finally made it home."

"With a week to spare before Christmas." Jack laughed, pulling from the hold slightly when Bozer actually pounded him hard on the back. He bit back a groan, when his ribs protested."Easy there, Tiger. I haven't had my coffee yet."

Bozer let him go, his eyes going from Jack's face to the sling he was sporting. "It looks like you've had a helluva time instead."

"I took some lucky punches, had a brush with a little lead…" Jack brought his hand to cradle the hurt arm. Forcing his most carefree grin he felt his split lip pull. He wasn't about to tell Bozer a cell of the drug dealers had gotten the drop on him, shot him during his barely managed escape. Instead, Jack reached out and gripped Bozer's shoulder, giving him a little push. "You know that's how Captain Jack Dalton rolls."

"Unhuh," Bozer gave a slight shake of his head. He rolled his eyes. "I know the _Captain_ is not as invincible as he thinks he is. Mac is going to…"

"Speaking of our boy," Jack interrupted, stepping around the younger man to head for the kitchen. He didn't need Bozer to give him a preview of what his partner was no doubt going to have to say about the way Jack looked. Besides, the coffee really was calling his name. He'd held back on the caffeine during his mission, needing all his senses extra sharp. But being home naturally had his guards lowering, exhaustion rearing its head. "Where is Mac?"

"Out for his run." Bozer followed, cutting around Jack to keep him from invading his precious space. He pointed to the bar, and Jack gratefully took a seat at the island even though he pulled an exaggerated eye roll at the mother hen move just to keep up pretenses.

"And why are you up on at the crack of dawn on a Saturday preparing a big meal?" Jack's gaze went to the stove where the remnants of flour, mixing bowls and pots and pans littered the top, brows drawing slightly together in question. He took another sniff of the air. "Homemade cinnamon rolls? Did you use Nana Beth's recipe?"

"Maybe. And if I did there's no special reason." Bozer placed Jack's favorite mug in front of him, full of coffee, but with just enough room for a splash of half and half and the hazel nut syrup that Mac kept stocked. He made a point of avoiding Jack's gaze as he moved to retrieve the cream from the refrigerator, shrugging. "Matty called last night to let us know we are expected at a meeting this morning about our new assignment and I just wanted to give Mac a reason to look forward to going to work."

"Since when do we need to bribe the boy wonder with pastries to get him to go into the office?" Jack raised a brow, slipping out of the sling so he could take both the syrup and milk from Bozer. "Isn't it usually the other way around-one of us bribing him to actually take some time off?"

"Should you be doing that?" Bozer asked, avoiding Jack's question. Jack detected the edge in the other man's voice. It was a Bozer-tell. A sure sign he had more to say but was holding back.

Jack stopped with the second dollop of syrup, gave a slow smile. "Damn, Boze, I know you're a purist when it comes to coffee, man, but…"

Bozer sighed, waving a hand for Jack to continue with this doctoring of the drink. "I don't mean all the extra sugar and fat you're dumping into the perfectly flavorful roast and you know it. I'm referring to the sling?"

"I guess you're not the only one who can circumvent conversation." Jack put the lid back on the hazelnut, picking up the mug with both hands. He flashed Bozer another grin over the rim before taking a long delicious drink.

"Fine." Bozer moved to grab his own mug from the stove top, before claiming the other bar stool. "If you must know, Mac's not exactly been enthusiastic about going to work these days, not since you've been gone and Matty's kept us on pretty low key assignments. He's spent the last week holed up in the lab."

Jack snorted. "So dealing with the deadliest bomb maker in the business is low key? Team Phoenix is hardcore, but that's extreme even for us."

"That assignment sort of fell into our laps." Bozer took a drink, giving a shrug, his eyes finally meeting Jack's. "You know Mac wasn't about to let that chance to take down The Ghost pass him by, especially not after the dinner in Pena's honor stirred up all those memories."

"I know." And Jack did. He'd wanted to attend the dinner so damn badly. He had a feeling that his assignment two days before was not a coincidence. He'd wanted to go, not only to support Mac, but to pay his respects to Pena. The man had meant a lot to Jack's best friend, and he gave the man credit for teaching Mac what he needed to know to survive his stint in the Army, not to mention save a whole bunch of lives in the process, including Jack's on more than one occasion.

"Matty was on board as well," Bozer continued, breaking into Jack's bleak thoughts. Jack blinked.

"Of course she was." Jack still didn't like that their director hadn't bothered to inform him of what was going on with the damn mission, even after they'd lost track of Mac. She could have called, even if Oversight had ordered her not to interrupt his current job. James and Matilda obviously knew Jack would have moved Heaven and earth to make it to Paris. Jack would have never forgiven her or Oversight if things had turned out differently. He rubbed a hand over his aching jaw, letting the pain ground him, giving his hands something to do. All of the sudden he felt jittery. "I understand why she acted on it. It was the most actionable intel anyone had on the man in years."

"Aside from that mess, Matty's been keeping us out of the loop. It's like we catch one mission, but then you get sent off on another job." Bozer frowned into his coffee then lifted his eyes to meet Jack's, his gaze earnest. "I know you're head of the Phoenix tactical unit, Jack, but you've never been pulled from our team like this. Landry usually covers missions. What do you think is really going on?"

For a moment he stared into his coffee, before swallowing another mouth full. What Jack thought was that James MacGyver was trying to kill him. Sure, it wasn't an overt attack. Such maneuvers would never have crossed Oversight's brilliant mind, obviously knowing Jack would obliterate him in any open confrontation and to do such would further alienate Mac. Instead, Jack imagined the bastard was being sneaky, pulling a move reminiscent of one of Nana Beth's favorite Sunday School stories. James was King David sending his competition, Uriah, to the bloody battlefront in hopes to be rid of him. That underhanded move of Biblical proportion had been spurred by a woman, but Jack figured the beauty of Bathsheba probably paled when it came to the love of a man's only son.

"Damned if I know, Boze. I've just been doing what the powers that be tell me to do."

Jack set the mug down, running a hand over his face, wincing when he came in contact with the cut on his lip. He'd purposively not shaved on the plane ride home, hoping the short beard would hide some of the bruises.

"So you agree with Mac and think it's James who keeps pushing for you to work these extra jobs."

Jack looked at Bozer. It wasn't like he was going to spill his slightly paranoid theory to his younger teammate. Because it was just that- theory. One likely colored by Jack's growing distrust of Oversight. Besides Bozer liked James MacGyver, had even pushed for Mac to be more proactive in the reconciliation department. Jack knew it was coming from the right place, but he also wished Bozer _and_ Riley would back off on what they thought was helpful advice. His girl was in a good place with her daddy, but Elwood, while somewhat of a deadbeat and prone to drink himself right into a bad spot and out of Riley's life on a regular occasion, was not sinister or dangerous. Jack wasn't so convinced the same could be said for James MacGyver.

"He's the boss." Jack said finally with a shrug, feigning nonchalance. The movement sent a stab up to the back of his skull. Him and Mac hadn't talked about the possibilities of why Jack was being lent out to other teams on a regular basis, but he knew the kid wasn't thrilled. "Who else would it be?"

James was jealous. Jack had known that from the get go, but since the incident on The Fourth of July when Mac had asked his father to leave Austin, tensions had mounted. They didn't run into Oversight in the office, but he made his presence known. The former Delta couldn't help but to wonder if his wealth of new responsibilities wasn't some plan on James's part to work Jack to complete exhaustion, spreading him so thin, that maybe, just maybe Jack, top-notch agent, skilled sniper and former special ops commander, would miss a beat, and finish the job for him by slipping up in the field. Jack wasn't sure if James was dirty enough to have intentionally tacked on the added emotional element or if that was merely a bonus. Putting thousands of miles between Jack and his priority goal, splitting his attention by keeping him away from Mac and their team put Jack in a distracted state of mind. Eight years of working together with Mac had him used to relying on the kid to have his back. His tac team was great but they were no Angus MacGyver. Maybe James was stupid enough to believe he'd force Jack to quit, something that wasn't even in the realm of possibility.

"What would be the purpose in him doing that?" Bozer asked naively, and Jack kept his eyes on his coffee as a few quick answers leapt to mind.

Punishment. Payback. Parental power struggle.

"Jack?"

"Sorry." Jack cleared his throat, rubbing at his burning eyes. "I guess I'm more tired than I thought, man. I probably should have just gone on home."

"But you wanted to check on Mac?" Bozer's knowing grin told Jack he was off the hook for the moment. At least as far as his theories about Oversight.

"He didn't sound so great the last few times we talked." Jack took another drink of his coffee. "I mean he sounded like Mac, but like he was trying too hard to sound like Mac…if you know what I mean."

"I told you I would keep an eye on him." Bozer looked slightly offended and Jack was quick to backpedal. He didn't want Bozer to think he didn't trust him, but truth be told there wasn't anyone that Jack trusted completely to watch the kid. That had been his job for so long, it seemed impossible to turn over, even to the one other person he knew loved and understood Mac almost as well as him.

"I'm sure you did a fine job, man. This Ghost thing though…coming on the heels of all the other months of bullshit. It just has the potential to stir up a lot of stuff from the past." Jack scratched at his stubbles, wincing slightly when his fingers hit a tender spot.

"From the war?" Bozer said gravely, his eyes growing distant. He'd been witness to the struggles Mac had suffered through when he and Jack first came home from Afghanistan. To his credit, Bozer had truly taken a step back and trusted Jack to take the lead, actually listened when Jack explained why Bozer couldn't tackle the situation with his usual formula of extra care, attention, and homemade chicken noodle soup. No matter how good the intentions, hovering and smothering was not something Mac tolerated when he was in a certain head space.

"Pena's still a tender spot." Jack flexed his fingers around the warm ceramic mug, noting the blue silver flakes in the ceramic glaze. The Cowboys emblem was chipped in one spot from years of use. If Jack remembered correctly the mug was ironically a gift from the first Christmas Jack spent stateside with Mac and Bozer.

"Did he tell you The Ghost told him the bomb that killed Pena was meant for Mac?" Bozer looked back at Jack, face serious and void of his typical enthusiasm.

"Yeah." The question brought Jack's thoughts from more pleasant times. His gut twisted as he thought about Mac haltingly telling him about that particular revelation. He almost wished the serial bomber was still alive just so he could kill him slowly and in the most painful way possible. A quick blade to the heart was too good for him, even if said blade was delivered by his own daughter. Karma could literally be a bitch with a chip on her shoulder. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, finding no comfort in The Ghost's demise or his killer's revenge. She had, after all, used Mac and then abandoned him to certain doom. "The kid let that twist him up just like the old bastard planned."

"So you don't think it's true? Does that mean you don't believe he also hid another bomb with Mac's name on it?" Bozer sat up straighter.

"I don't know if The Ghost really did plan on taking Mac out and killed Pena instead." Mac had made a name for himself quickly in the desert. So Jack knew it was entirely possible he came across as a threat, a challenge to a sociopath like The Ghost, who probably saw the kid as his contemporary in the odd way that Murdoc seemed to as well.

Jack and Mac both had bounties put on their heads several times by Taliban and other criminal element looking to pick off the most prominent threats to their agenda. Whether what the Ghost taunted was true or not, Jack was certain that Mac would heap the guilt on himself either way. He gripped the coffee mug tighter. "But I do know it's something Mac will roll over and over in his big old brain until he makes himself sick with it. He's probably already started some kind of database looking for possible targets of where the bomb might be, calculating some statistical likelihood."

"Damn," Bozer breathed, tapping his fingers on the island. "Like that secret computer program he created to continually search for Nikki when he told you he wasn't looking for her anymore? I hadn't even thought of that."

Jack hadn't really considered that scenario either. He winced at the particular memory. When Bozer had brought him Mac's laptop with the methodical research quarry on Nikki Carpenter he'd been blindsided by not only Mac's doggedness verging on obsession, but by his own complacency in what was happening with his partner. Bozer, believing Nikki dead, had thought it was some sort of reaction to grief, or a blatant sign of Mac's denial. Jack understood that it was neither of those but his best friend's blind determination to stop Nikki before someone else was hurt by her. Mac could not let it alone, not when he believed Nikki was a threat and that he was partially to blame for her being set loose on the world.

It was like in the desert when the kid thought there was an IED he hadn't found. Mac could not just leave a ticking time bomb for someone else to stumble onto, even a theoretical one. The bomb nerd sometimes acted as if he had put the damn things in the sand himself and therefore had to reclaim them all. Possibilities pushed the genius's over sensitive responsibility buttons in a manner that simply prevented him from walking away. Mac's keen intellect and ability to find the solution for almost any problem presented was a crazy amazing gift, right up until the point it became a scary, dangerous character flaw.

"Has he been sleeping okay?" Jack asked, hoping like hell the kid wasn't actually using every waking moment to launch some secret search for a bomb. Real or not, it seemed The Ghost had done a bang up job of planting it in Mac's mind nonetheless. He shifted on the stool, stiff muscles protesting.

"I think so," Bozer hedged. He sighed, something else showing briefly on his face, but passing too quickly for Jack's exhausted brain to catch on. "Honestly, I wouldn't know, Jack." He glanced up, guilt now flashing in his dark eyes. "I've been staying at Leanna's a lot lately."

Jack gave a light chuckle. "Dude, don't look at me like I'm Nana Beth about to launch into some heart to heart about the sanctity of the marital bed and the importance of keeping yourself pure until your wedding day. I'm not about to throw a stone when I live in a glass castle, myself."

Bozer smirked, still looking a bit chagrinned. "I wasn't worried about you thinking less of me for sleeping at my girlfriends, but more that I haven't been around as much for Mac."

"Mac is a grown man perfectly capable of living on his own and taking care of himself." Jack tried not to look away under his teammate's incredulous scrutiny. Sure Jack sometimes acted as if Mac needed a monitor twenty-four seven, but that was an offshoot of Jack's very own 'highly sensitive Overwatch button' and not some insight about the kid being unable to care for himself. Mac was the most capable person Jack had ever known. He gave Bozer a pointed look, hoping to alieve any responsibility he'd somehow cast on the other man's shoulders. "You're allowed to have a life, Boze. I know Mac is happy for you. So am I."

"Then you'll think about moving in here if I leave."

"Wait, what?" Jack was taken aback and rendered speechless for a moment. Leave it to Bozer to throw a hard drive from left field. He slowly sat his mug back onto the counter, eyeing Bozer once more. "Back up, homey…"

"I mean you said it yourself, Jack. You could have gone straight to your apartment after coming off such a long mission. Anyone else as exhausted and injured as you obviously are would have crashed, but instead you came here first. You know why? This is your _real_ home. You're here most of the time anyway," Bozer drew his brows together. "Rent free I might add."

"Hey," Jack returned the frown. "I buy groceries."

"You buy beer and Doritos, maybe bring over a pizza."

"That constitutes rations."

Bozer sighed. He ran a hand over his hair. "All I'm saying is that I would feel a lot better about considering the next step in my relationship with Leanna by accepting her invite to share her place, if you would consider taking on a more permanent move."

"I think you're forgetting one very important piece of the puzzle here, Bozer." Jack picked up his coffee once more, took a long drink. "Like whose name is on the lease. No offense brother, but this is Mac's house and I'm not sure he'd appreciate us negotiating me taking on your room and board without his input."

"I know Mac's told you more than once that the spare room is yours whenever you wanted it. In fact, I know he offered it to you when you both came back from Afghanistan. If he thought you would feel better about being here…" Bozer fiddled with the lid of the creamer, looking slightly sheepish at the prospect of manipulating their best friend for his own good. "It's not that I don't think Mac would be okay on his own, it's just that whether he'd ever admit it or not, sometimes he needs someone around to keep him out of that huge brain of his. If not…"

"He get's lost," Jack finished, squinting slightly as the first hints of a headache started to pound behind his eyes. He understood understanding Bozer's concerns. Sometimes Jack believed Mac would be completely fine without another soul around as long as he had his gadgets and books.

"Exactly." Bozer nodded, seriously. "And he'd never eat anything hot. He'd just exist on power bars and protein shakes."

"Surely you don't' expect me to step in as head chef?" Jack arched a brow. He had no doubt his best friend would have been fine with him taking up residence seeing as how Bozer wasn't exactly exaggerating the time he already spent there. He and Mac had shared a much smaller space in Afghanistan with neither coming out worse for it. Jack would sure as hell feel better especially if Bozer moved out.

Bozer was admittedly more GoldenDoodle than Rottweiller, but him being with Mac always gave Jack a sense of security. It wasn't as if Jack hadn't considered proposing the idea himself, especially after Murdoc, The Ghost and every other psycho seemed to be well-aware of where Angus MacGyver resided, but Jack had always felt that working together day in and day out was enough. He'd never wanted to crowd Mac.

"Don't be ridiculous," Bozer gestured to the cup Jack was holding. "You can't even make your own coffee. I'll still be here to perform my culinary skills. You have other talents that I want to exploit-like Mac whispering."

"Mac-whispering?" Jack snorted, almost spilling his coffee. "I'm not sure I've been exactly competent in that area lately."

"Only because you've been gone so much." Bozer obviously hadn't meant it as a dig but it cut just the same. Jack must have let the pain and guilt register on his face because Bozer rushed to add, "Not that you've bailed out on him on purpose. I mean, you were only doing what Matty told you to do. Believe me I get it, Matty is scary…"

"But I'm not afraid of her," Jack quickly interjected. He didn't dare mention once more that he didn't believe their director had much say in his latest absences. Instead he eased himself out of the barstool, careful of his bruised ribs. "Which is why I'm going to be at that meeting this morning." He gestured to the hallway that led to the guest bathroom. "That is if you don't mind if this bum grabs a hot shower on your dime."

"You look like the only thing you need to catch is some Z's, man." Bozer folded his arms over his chest, purposively glancing to the sling laying on the bar between them. Jack easily picked up on the genuine worry flickering in the other man's eyes. "It's not like I don't want you back with us where you belong, but has medical even cleared you for duty?"

"I can sleep on the plane to wherever our team is heading." Jack quickly grabbed the sling with his good hand. There was no reason to bring it up to Matty or especially to Mac. He wasn't going to be separated from his family again, not after weeks of them being apart and Christmas fast approaching. The shoulder wound was nothing more than a deep graze. He gave the sling a little wave before stepping over to one of the drawers and shoving it inside with the first aid kit and extra batteries. "And this…this is going to be our little secret."

"Which means you _haven't_ seen anyone." Bozer stood as well, still regarding Jack with a look of disappointment, arms crossed over his chest.

"Which _means_ I'm not missing out on this briefing." Jack pointed to the oven, flashing a trademark grin. "You're always bragging how your cooking is the cure for what ails a man, Boze. I'll be counting on those magical buns and on some more of your brew to get me through the morning." When Bozer still looked reluctant to join in on Jack's slight duplicity, he played a different card, the one he knew his friend couldn't resist. "Come on, brother. I thought we were Team Mac. Whatever our differences, we promised to have each other's back when it came to our boy."

"You won't be surprised to find out that Mac officially put me on Team Jack before he quit Phoenix and exacted a similar promise about me keeping an eye on you." Bozer's frown deepened and for a moment Jack was afraid he'd lost him. "I haven't forgotten the way you made me look bad by going and getting yourself kidnapped by Jonah. That's already one strike against me."

"Let's not forget Mac got kidnapped by The Ghost on your watch." Jack knew it was a low blow but he was more than a little tired and cranky as well as a bit desperate. "It looks like to me if you have two charges you want to keep up with, you'd want them both on the same mission. There's no telling just what _I_ might get up to if I'm left here to my own devices. Alone. With Oversight."

"I would have Riley for back up,"" Bozer said quickly, holding up his hands.

"That's my boy. Use the resources around you," Jack said with a contemplative nod, all the while grinning on the inside with images of what Riley would do to their teammate if she ever heard him refer to her as 'his' backup. "Leanna will be there, too."

"True, though she's not yet been thoroughly read in on what Riles and me like to call Operation Taming the Twin Terrors."

"That makes us sound like toddlers." Jack was insulted on both his and Mac's behalves, giving Bozer a narrow-eyed stare.

"Says the grown man who just hid the bandage for his booboo and wants me to cover for him with the principal."

"Boze?" Jack sighed, growing tired of the game. It was getting hard to maintain his good 'ol boy act when he was feeling like one giant bruise. His side and hip were hurting and he hoped like hell the hot shower would loosen the sore muscles along his upper back and neck. Hanging from a tree by handcuffs even for a couple of hours could do a number on a guy's trapezius.

Bozer huffed, shaking his head. "Alright. Go take a shower before Mac gets here. You look terrible. I actually washed the clothes you left here last time. They're in your room. If you shave I'll even cover the worst of those bruises you're trying to hide with my airbrush kit."

"Domestic dynamo and a wonder with the make-up wand. How has Leanna resisted asking you to be her roomie for this long?" Jack didn't wait for an answer, the tell-tale narrowing of the gaze enough warning that he was pushing his luck. He patted Bozer on the shoulder as he made his way towards the hallway. Catching the other man's grumbled declaration that he was quickly changing his mind about missing having Jack around, the older agent smiled. It was good to be home. Jack wasn't planning on leaving them again anytime soon if he could help it. Oversight be damned.

RCJ

Mac didn't even care that he'd nearly tripped over Jack's go bag as he quickly made his way through the doorway. From the moment he'd seen the silver-blue Shelby as he jogged up the drive, he'd been hit with a sudden surge of adrenaline, an anticipation that helped fuel his flagging reserves that had made his run less than par. He wiped an arm over his forehead, swiping away the excess sweat as he made it to the kitchen, an easy smile coming as he caught sight of familiar keys tossed on the hallway table.

"Where's Jack?" Mac stopped at the island, startling Bozer who was bent over at the oven pulling out what smelled like cinnamon rolls. Mac's mouth watered, but not from his usual reaction to his roommates cooking. Instead a wave of nausea had him bringing a hand to his stomach where an echo of pain throbbed behind his navel. He hadn't felt well that morning. The Chinese food he'd consumed while doing research the night before had obviously been a bad idea and the hour long jog hadn't improved the situation. He grit his teeth against the stab of pain and tried to breathe through his mouth to quell the churning in his stomach that made bile burn the back of his throat.

"Good morning to you to, sunshine." Bozer set the pan on the counter, turning to face Mac with potholder covered hands propped on his hips, brow raised. Mac recognized Bozer's best irritated housewife imitation. "Now that your other best friend is back in town, I'm chopped liver?"

Mac rolled his eyes at the melodramatics, but did try to tamp down on his enthusiasm, more so because he felt self-conscious about acting all of ten again instead of fearing he'd hurt Bozer's feelings. "When did he get in?" He inquired, cooly.

"Not long after you left for your run." Bozer pulled the potholders from his hands and returned them to the peg above the stove, eyes brushing the clock on the oven. "You're back early."

Mac shrugged, appreciative of the bottle of water Bozer pulled from the refrigerator to offer to him. He took the bottle, pressing it to his forehead for a second as he did another sweep of the house. "Is he out on the deck?" He doubted Jack would go far when there was the promise of food.

"In the shower." Bozer answered, reaching for plates in the cabinet above him. "He says he's coming into the office with us."

Mac took a drink of the cool water, hoping his stomach didn't recoil at the content. "Does Matty know that?"

"I don't think so." Bozer used a spatula to dish up the oversized rolls and began working to cover them with a quick swirl of cream cheese icing. "I got the impression Jack didn't care one way or the other."

"She didn't mention him coming home today." When Mac's stomach remained quiet, he took another longer drink of water. Neither had Deacon Landry called him. The former Delta had been in touch with Mac off and on while Jack was in Brazil. Landry was loyal to Jack for many reasons and the feeling was mutual. Jack had gotten Deacon a job at Phoenix a few years after he and Mac had signed on back when it was still DXS, had pushed for him to be his second in Tac Teams. Mac had felt better knowing that Deacon was on the Brazil mission as well, backing Jack up. He trusted Landry with the job and with keeping him in the loop. Jack wasn't the only one who had Deacon's loyalty.

"He didn't tell me any specifics," Bozer continued, glancing over his shoulder. "But he looked like he'd come straight here after wrapping the mission. Smelled like it, too."

Mac noticed the way his roommate didn't meet Mac's gaze. "He was okay?" Mac asked, knowing Bozer would more than likely skirt around the truth, some of which Mac was already privy to, thanks to Deacon.

"You know Jack." Bozer gave a quick shrug, trying and failing to look nonchalant. "He could go into a bouncy house with a bunch of two-year-olds all bundled up in bubble wrap and still come out with a black eye."

Mac did indeed know exactly how his partner was and despite Bozer brushing Jack's tendency for injury off as some sort of accident proneness Mac understood it to be from a willingness to do whatever the job asked of him. Mac often worried that one day the job would ask too much, and lately he considered that maybe Oversight was counting on such. He didn't get a chance to turn that particular possibility over for long because Jack chose that moment to enter the room dressed in a pair of old sweats and a Metallica t-shirt that had seen better days. He still had a towel partially over his head, rubbing his wet hair and Mac couldn't deny the rush of relief he felt at seeing his partner.

"I'm ready for my make-up, Mr. Seville," Jack announced brightly.

"New fashion trend you picked up while in Brazil?" Mac couldn't help the smug grin when Jack whipped around to look at him surprise registering in his dark eyes before he shot Bozer an accusing frown. Mac gestured to Jack's face. "I'm not sure you can pull off the smoky eye look, partner."

"Hey don't look at me." Bozer muttered, going back to frosting his buns, mumbling something under his breath. "It's not my fault our boy's working on a new PBR."

Mac hadn't been going for a record, which was good considering the abysmal run was nowhere near his personal best, but the failed attempt was worth it to catch Jack off guard.

"Long time no see, brother." Jack recovered, quickly, completely side-stepping Mac's observation, as he moved forward to grab the younger man in a hard hug. Mac didn't even mind the breach of his personal bubble, the physical presence of his best friend too much of a novelty over the last few months to complain. He even held on a bit longer than normal, only pulling back when he felt Jack wince.

"How's the shoulder?" Mac met his gaze with an arch of a brow, leaning against the counter. "I heard you got shot."

"Damn it, Bozer." Jack growled, turning to bare his teeth at Mac's completely innocent roommate. Innocent of ratting Jack out about the bullet wound that was, but apparently willingly complicit in a plan to cover up Jack's other injuries.

Bozer held up his icing covered spatula, looking as surprised as Jack and a bit indignant. "I didn't tell him anything. Maybe he's developed some 'Spidey-senses' of his own."

"No super powers," Mac confessed when Jack swung his gaze back to him, arching a brow. "Deacon called me."

"Damn Landry," Jack sighed, running a hand through his still wet hair.

"I made him promise to keep me informed if anything went sideways." Mac tilted his head, giving Jack a slightly challenging look. "The same kind of request you made of Bozer and Riley no doubt."

"A directive _they_ obviously ignored considering you were kidnapped and I knew absolutely nothing about it until it was all over."

"Talk to Matty," Bozer quickly added. "She's the one who slapped us with the gag order."

"You were a thousand miles away, Jack." Mac couldn't deny he'd been surprised when he'd picked up the phone to call Jack after his rescue and Riley had stopped him with the revelation that no one had informed his partner he'd even been missing. When he did call to break the news himself, he'd tried to make Matty's reasoning sound logical to Jack, who to say the least hadn't taken the news well, but hadn't added his own lingering suspicions that Oversight had made the final decision on whether Jack would be read in on the situation. In retrospect, Mac hoped Matty had also realized that Jack would have been distracted on his own mission, putting himself at risk. It was a scenario Mac often feared when they were working simultaneous separate missions.

"I'm pretty sure that argument could go both ways, brother." Jack frowned. He moved to the counter by Bozer, refilling his favorite Cowboy's coffee mug.

"Or I just have better powers of persuasion than you." Mac offered when his partner rejoined him by the island, hoping to ease the tension. The last thing he wanted was to argue with Jack.

Jack took a drink, rolling his eyes. "Did Deacon at least tell you it was just a graze?"

Mac's mouth twitched, his gaze meeting Jack's. "He said you whined and bitched about it like a baby so knowing your tendency only to be stoic when you're bleeding out or in jeopardy of losing an organ, I figured it wasn't much worse than a paper cut."

Jack grinned, taking another swallow of his coffee. "There was no whining. This." Jack gestured to the bruises on his face, "Hurt worse than the bullet."

"Is that why you were going to let Bozer put you in his make-up chair?" Mac's voice had regained a slightly sharp edge as the heady scent of yeast and coffee reawakened the faint sense of nausea Mac had temporarily subdued with his excitement at finding Jack home, safe and sound. He felt another stab of pain twisting his stomach, his mouth watering.

"How about we eat up while it's warm," Bozer's voice broke in with forced cheer. He brought three heaping plates to the island, pushing one directly in front of Mac, who took one look at the cinnamon roll dripping with melted sugar and barely made it to the garbage can before he was sick.

"Whoa!" Bozer's voice barely penetrated Mac's misery as he emptied what was left of last night's midnight raid into the waste basket. The pain over his navel intensified, robbing him of his breath. "That's not the reaction any chef wants," he heard his roommate mutter.

"What's going on? Mac?"

Jack's worried voice had Mac grimacing, his body betraying him as his stomach seemed bent on turning inside out. He braced his hands on the side of the can, squeezing his eyes shut to ride out the misery. He caught the clean scent of the eucalyptus shampoo Bozer kept in the guest bathroom, then a steady, cool hand rested against his neck.

"Hey, brother. Surely Bozer's cooking ain't that bad."

"Shut up, Jack," Bozer snapped, irritation and worry ringing through. "It was probably your ugly face that did him in."

"Wet this for me." Jack responded to Bozer from behind Mac and Mac was grateful when only a beat passed before a cold, damp towel was draped around his neck. Jack's hand moved to his shoulder, giving a slight reassuring squeeze. "You okay, bud?"

Mac nodded, feeling as if he could actually straighten up, his stomach momentarily done with the surprise acrobatics. When he made it upright, Jack's grip tightened as he wavered slightly, blinking.

"Easy there, slugger." Jack's other hand returned to Mac's neck, forcing the younger man to lift his gaze and giving Jack access to Mac's pulse. Mac could imagine it was erratic as he could feel his heart thundering against his chest. He knew sweat was beaded on his face and felt weary and worn down, despite the much shorter run."You overdo it on the jog just a bit this morning? What have I told you kids about life being a parade route not a sprint."

Mac's mouth twitched, recognizing the tried and true tactic. "It's a marathon, Jack."

"Only for the millennials who think it's a good idea to run twenty-six freaking miles in a morning."

"I didn't even do five," Mac bantered as he let himself be guided to one of the barstools. Jack didn't let him go until Mac was sitting and even then he stood close, watching him studiously as if he might have missed something important.

"Good thing, too, considering you just tossed your cookies and your heart's racing as fast as Treaty and Raucus when they're trying to be the first to the grain bucket after one of our trail rides." Mac could clearly hear the underlying worry in his partner's teasing Texas drawl.

A pain of what he could only describe as homesickness struck with the mention of his horse, of his and Jack's time in Austin. It had been months since they'd returned to LA, to Phoenix. Mac had thought things would get better, especially since he'd made the choice to establish clear boundaries with Oversight. Instead, the normalcy he hoped to return had eluded him, replaced instead with new dynamics. Leanna was a welcomed addition to the team, but it was a change, albeit not as drastic as the one where Jack seemed to be a migrant member, drifting in and out of missions, instead of the constant Mac had come to count on through the years.

"What's going on with you, kid?" Jack asked, eyeing him closely.

"It's nothing," Mac tried, using the end of the towel to wipe at his mouth. He felt Jack's gaze on him, his concern palpable between them, and tried to force a smile. "I might have eaten some questionable left overs last night."

"Tell me it wasn't Bozer's weird days old Thanksgiving Turkey casserole?" Jack's hand went back to Mac's neck, giving a gentle squeeze that offered so much more than a steadying presence. Protection. Safety. For a moment Mac fought the urge just to close his eyes and will away the reality of the last several months, but Jack's voice kept him grounded. "Because if so, I should definitely call 911."

"I heard that, he who usually loves my turkey left over recipes. Remember the turkey nachos you devoured last year?" Bozer grunted, nudging Jack with his elbow as he came to stand in front of Mac, bearing a can of ginger ale. "Here, Mac, this might help."

Mac shook his head. The idea of drinking anything at the moment bringing a fresh wave of misery. He wrapped his arm over his stomach, breathing carefully once more.

"Thanks, Boze." Jack took the can, his forehead furrowing. "Let's hold off on adding anything to the mix."

"Can we just go outside?" Mac glanced longingly to the patio door, a refuge from the kitchen smells still assaulting him.

"I'll clean up in here," Bozer nodded to Jack, Mac not missing the look his two best friends exchanged. They probably thought he was having some kind of delayed stress reaction to what he'd gone through with The Ghost, as if his psyche had waited until Jack arrived before flying all to hell. Admittedly, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility but Mac was still betting on the late night raid of the refrigerator being the culprit. Once they were outside, he took a deep breath of air, even more convinced of his theory when his head cleared and his stomach eased off.

"You sure you're okay?" Jack asked quietly, following Mac's gaze out over the city scape which was just starting to come awake.

"I'm fine. Really." He shot Jack a side glance. Bozer wasn't completely wrong about Jack's face being a trigger, although it had more to do with Oversight's hand in the matter than the fact Jack looked about as beat to hell as he usually did after a mission. There was a price to pay for being the muscle, the proverbial shield for the brain trust, as he'd heard some others at Phoenix describe Jack's role. But Jack was so much more than security detail, than a bodyguard. He was not expendable, replaceable or interchangeable with another soldier of his credentials as some seemed to assume.

"Maybe I should call Matty and tell her you're not exactly up for a mission."

"No." Mac shook his head, realizing that begging off a job would simply leave a door for Jack to once more be sent off on his own. He wasn't ready to be separated so quickly. Time spent with The Ghost had shaken him and all the phone calls and video chats couldn't quite replicate the first steadiness he'd really felt with having Jack back. "I'm good, Jack. Better than I've been in weeks."

"Good isn't usually so green, kiddo, unless you're Kermit the frog." Jack gripped the railing, watching Mac instead of the view.

"I told you it was the Chinese." Mac took another breath, the relief he felt almost convincing him of his own argument. The pain he'd felt before was just a faint echo now. He would not be eating curry for a long time. "I should never have Leanna choose the restaurant. She likes the Magic Dragon."

"What?" Jack gave an exaggerated affronted look. "Does the girl not know this house has its loyalties? Damn. If Zeke from Trey Yuen finds out I'll lose the best Mongolian Beef in town."

"Please don't' talk about…" Mac waved his hand in the air, unwilling to speak the name of his best friend's favorite dish. "You know."

"Sorry, but someone's going to have to have a chat with Bozer's lady."

"She's still figuring things out."

"Yeah, Boze said she hasn't been fully read in on Twin Terrors." Jack gave Mac a long look, rolling his eyes.

"What?"

"That's what our loving teammates call us. Operation Twin Terrors." Jack glanced over his shoulder as if expecting Bozer to be eavesdropping. "I'm sure there's notes about our alleged co-dependence issues and how I hover too much and you refuse medical treatment even when you really need it."

"They forget it was me and you against the Taliban and then the world, long before they came along." Mac couldn't deny some of the points he was sure Riley and Bozer would make about his and Jack's partnership, but he knew they have to admit for all it's oddness, it worked.

Jack bumped his shoulder against Mac's. "It's always going to be me and you against the world, brother."

Mac felt a dark rush of foreboding at his best friend's words, suddenly overcome with the childish need to exact a promise from the other man. Despite not speaking a word of what he viewed his complete and possibly pathetic desperation, his face must have revealed exactly what he was thinking because Jack turned to look at him, offering his closed fist.

"We'll pound on it, if that will make you feel better." Jack lifted one brow, not one hint of condemnation for Mac's foolishness on his part. "You know it's more binding than a pinky swear."

Mac let out the breath he'd been holding with a laugh. "And a hell of a lot more manly."

He knocked his knuckles against Jack's a real smile finding its way onto his face as he easily recalled the first time Jack had started the particular tradition in Afghanistan. They'd been pinned down by enemy fire. Jack was going to have to break cover and try and take out the gunman. He had levelled Mac with his most serious 'I am in charge' glower and made him promise that he'd stay put no matter what happened. Apparently Mac's solemn vow had not been enough because Jack continued to badger him, even as bullets pierced their paltry shelter. Mac had finally thrust out his pinky finger in jest, suggesting they swear on it. Jack had actually laughed, informing Mac that Deltas didn't ever stick out their damn pinkies, not when drinking tea, and sure as hell not when making an oath to one another. He'd offered the kid his fist instead. It had been the first of many such oaths.

"I'm not going anywhere, Angus, at least not anywhere so far away that I won't come back. You have my word."

Mac felt his smile wane at the solemnity of Jack's soft declaration, the sudden serious look on his partner's face adding to the sudden moroseness and the grim sense of foreboding Mac had gleaned earlier. He managed to give Jack a quick nod, hoping it spoke what Mac couldn't before turning back to the city below them. He didn't trust his voice in that moment not to betray exactly how much Jack's pledge meant. Or worse that his gaze might reveal his deepest insecurities and Jack would once more glimpse the truth, which was that despite everything Jack did and said and how desperately Mac wanted and needed to believe him, he still had his doubts.

That had nothing to do with Jack. And everything to do with James MacGyver.

As much as Mac feared that neither he nor Jack could ever diminish the hold Oversight wielded over the past, it terrified him to entertain thoughts that they may be just as impotent to thwart his father's ability to influence both their futures.

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Let's Be Enemies

By: Ridley

A/N: I should know that a holiday story is never finished before the holiday I intend. Years of writing them and I still think I will pull it off. So, although we've got a way to go on this Christmas story, I hope this long chapter is a gift. To all those celebrating, Merry Christmas. Thanks for all the kind comments and reviews. Thanks to Mary who is always such a great beta and wonderful friend! Also, I do briefly mention some things that happened in my Hawaii Five-0 crossover story, Guard Your Heart. You don't have to have read it, but some things might make sense as I created some back story for Jack and Steve McGarrett.

RcJ

Jack could admit that as much as Mac's place was his true home, the Phoenix building was a close second. He typically felt as much at ease in the War Room as he did when sprawled in an Adirondack chair on Mac's deck. The only thing missing at work was the cold beer and nachos, which at times Jack substituted with donuts and coffee as they were more fitting of the setting. Today was not one of those days. In fact, the entire place felt a bit stifling, and far from welcoming. Though Jack was sure he could pin most of that on the surprise member of the Phoenix foundation he had not expected to have in their mix.

"It's about time you gentlemen joined us." James MacGyver, Oversight himself, stood at the front of the room next to Matty. He tilted his head towards his son and Bozer. "By gentlemen, I mean you two." His eyes moved to Jack and then to Matilda's, his gaze unreadable. "Agent Dalton I don't believe was expected."

"His team returned early this morning," Matty briefly moved her gaze to Jack, no surprise or any other emotion betrayed by her glance. "I assumed he'd have been in medical considering I was informed he was shot in the line of duty."

"Shot?" Riley looked his way and Jack forced a megawatt grin for her benefit.

"It was barely a graze, darlin'." Jack rolled his shoulder, holding back on the grimace when a white, hot bolt of pain shot through his arm. He gripped a fist against the unexpected hurt, but quickly opened his fingers, flexing them again as proof he was good when Riley's face still reflected her concern, eyes trained on him. "Bastard had Bozer's aim."

"Hey now…" Bozer started, just as Jack knew he would. The familiarity of it helped ease the tension between his shoulder blades a bit.

"Boys," Matty interrupted with perfect timing, and barely restrained patience.

"No matter, it's good you're here, Dalton." James commanding comment had them all quieting and looking his way.

Jack wasn't able to school his expression before he met Oversight's gaze. The words were so familiar, same as the ones he'd uttered upon their first meeting.

"How's that?" Jack parroted similar lines from that initial encounter, wondering if he was once more about to be drug along on a wild goose chase. Only when he felt Mac's presence at his shoulder did he realize he'd placed himself purposively between his partner and James. A move that came reflexively, without conscious thought. He still didn't buy the whole concerned-and-caring-father-shit James was trying to sell as much as he'd wanted it to be on par, at least for Mac's sake.

"What's this about?" Mac asked, not making a move to distance himself but also seemingly not content to stay behind his partner. Jack wondered if Mac was sticking close due to the fact he understood Jack's ridiculous need to have some illusion of control in whatever was about to happen, or if he was actually seeking a sense of security for himself. From the still slightly pale pallor the kid was sporting and fine lines around his eyes that told of discomfort, Jack figured it might be a bit of both. The mere thought of Mac feeling even slightly vulnerable had Jack's hackles rising. If he'd been a dog, he was certain the hair along his neck and back would have been ruffed.

"Matty?" He met his old friend's guarded gaze.

"I wasn't aware Oversight was joining us." Matty explained, her glance briefly sliding to brush Mac before once more holding Jack's. They'd had an arrangement. She and Jack. Whatever her relationship with Oversight, their director would make every effort to ensure Mac wouldn't be blindsided by his father's plans. Not again. Not if Jack could help it.

"This is a delicate situation that I intend on handling personally," James interjected, unaware or purposively ignoring Jack's and Matty's exchanged looks. Jack didn't miss the man's all business tone, which broke no room for challenge. "Those above my paygrade decided it would be beneficial to not only have our best operative team involved but that I would also supervise the mission."

"There's someone above your paygrade?" Bozer asked, disbelievingly.

"Every foundation has a board, Wilt." James actually smiled, though it never really reached his eyes. "I have people I answer to for everything that takes place under our roof. Just ask Matilda how much time I tend to spend in Washington when certain members of your team go 'off book'."

"Yet our team is still continually the one who gets called for these delicate situations on a regular basis." Mac pointed out and Jack more heard than saw his partner shifting, noticed when the kid's breath caught. When he stole a glance, Mac folded his arms over his chest, and Jack once more fought off the irrational desire to throw a towel in the center ring, to beg off whatever job they were about to be briefed on. It was clear to him, at least, that his partner wasn't a hundred percent.

"There is no disputing your effectiveness, son, or your dedication to our priority goal." James inclined his head, his eyes on Mac. "Which is why I know you will be on your top game when you realize the challenge that's been set before us, the opportunity we're being offered to save a life."

Jack couldn't help but to sense James setting the board, doling out just the right key phrases to entice his son. He might as well have thrown in some dire insurmountable physics problem with a rare likelihood of a solution to finish bating the trap. Jack had heard many such speeches himself when being asked to perform some distasteful service or another in the name of God and Country and found that the bigger the buildup the likelier there was going to be a catch.

"Who's the target?" He couldn't help himself, once more inching in front of Mac. He consciously made his fingers relax, fighting to not take on a defensive stance.

To James's credit he didn't even flinch. "Rueben Accola."

"Wait." Jack frowned, the name ringing a bell, rustling memories better left buried. Finally he frowned at James, the furrows on his brow deepening. "You're fucking kidding, right?" Jack now took another step towards Oversight but it had nothing to do with protecting his partner, much more to do with the picture of the man that now flashed on the screen before them. The face was eerily familiar, yet changed by the years since Jack had first seen it. His mind instantly went to Lashkar Gah, the bloodbath of a mission that had cost him two men, two brothers.

"You know him?" Mac's question broke through the torrent of memories that threatened to pull Jack under. His fingers once more curling into fists, the resulting pain of the gunshot wound a welcomed distraction.

"He was a physician with Doctors Without Borders, worked in Afghanistan, mostly with women and children, back when I pulled one of my first tours." Jack kept his gaze on the screen, the blue eyes staring back at him too lifelike.

"Afghanistan has some of the highest maternal and infant mortality rates in the world," Leanna spoke up for the first time from her spot near Riley, who was already typing away on her keyboard. "I remember reading that over 4000 women die every year due to complications from childbirth, compared to the 700 here in the states."

"Makes sense. It says here that Rueben Accola is an obstetrician from Switzerland, a small village called Albinen" Riley added, touching a few more keys. New images filled the screen. Accola still, but no longer in civilian attire. There were shots of him surrounded by smiling children. Holding a newborn baby. Now he was dressed in a white doctor's garb, grinning. Jack had a sudden urge to use the stethoscope that hung around the man's neck to strangle him, wipe that damn grin off his face. "He moved to Boston when he was a teenager," Riley continued, eyes briefly flashing to Jack over the rim of her laptop. "Went to Harvard and then Johns Hopkins."

"Is it just me or does the old guy bare an uncanny resemblance to Santa Clause?" Bozer asked, rubbing a finger over his temple. "All he needs is a red hat and some black boots."

Jack glanced at him. He wasn't wrong. "When my team first got to Lashkar Gah, one of the guys from Germany tagged Accola with the name Samichlaus from some Swiss slant on the North American Santa Clause." Jack moved his gaze back to the screen. "The kids in the village even said he smelled like peppermint. Later, that same soldier recanted the nickname, switching instead to calling the old doctor Schmutzli. That one stuck."

"Schmutzli as in Samichlaus's dark sidekick?" Mac asked, never failing to surprise Jack with the amount of trivial information he could hold in his head. He moved next to Jack, blue eyes studying the information before him.

"Yeah, bud," Jack's voice was grim, his gaze briefly going to the kid's. "I know you have a thing for the big guy in red, but this dude, Schmutzli, he apparently takes care of punishing the children who've been guilty of misdeeds throughout the year and were not found to be deserving of gifts. He delivered beatings with a broom."

"Whoa, so this Accola is a bad guy because I'm with Bozer, he looks like a sweet old grandpa?" Riley asked, more images flashing on the screen as she easily multitasked. One of Accola with President George W. Bush. Another with him and the freaking Pope. "I'm not finding anything negative in his history."

"That's because government higher ups don't like to announce to the world when they've made piss poor errors in judgment, Ri." Jack ran a hand over his mouth, already dreading what all this would lead to.

"Accola was a sympathizer, a self-proclaimed champion for what he saw as the downtrodden," James added, gesturing to the screen. "He's lived in Afghanistan for more than twenty years and is often accredited with opening doors to dialogue that would not have been managed without his intervention, touted as a negotiator for good relations."

"The man's a traitor," Jack growled, his gaze locking with Oversight, eyes burning. "He didn't just sympathize with the enemy. He crossed a line by colluding with them against American, German and French soldiers."

"Nothing was ever proven, Dalton." James's gaze was cold, when he met Jack's. Gone was any attempt at trying to play nice with one another.

"Watching two of my men bleed out while Accola stood back and did nothing was all the proof I ever needed." Jack dared James to even suggest what Rueben did wasn't treason. Murder. "I tried to bring charges against him, but he called his actions triage protocol. Said I was suffering from reactions of post trauma. From where I stood it was a damn convenient way for him to take players off the board. Dr. Accola sat back and did nothing, ordered his staff to do nothing to help us."

"Jack," Matty warned. When Jack shot her an angry disbelieving glance her face softened. She held up a placating hand. "I'm not discounting your version of Accola's past, but his present usefulness has to be our focus."

"What exactly do we need him for?" Mac asked, arms still tightly crossed over his chest. He'd moved closer to Jack, the older agent taking the proximity as an unspoken show of solidarity.

"A reporter and his camera man are being held in Kandahar," James spoke. "They were taken two days ago by the government when they were found to have crossed the border without appropriate visas."

"Not just any reporter," Matty added. "This young man happens to be Senator Franklin Moore's one and only son."

Jack had been sent on many off the book missions to retrieve kidnapped personnel. He couldn't fathom what use the good doctor would be in such an operation. "What does that have to do with old Schmutzli? Why not use SEAL or DELTA for an extraction?"

"With the established government involved-one we supported taking power –we can't exactly risk a very high profile incident." Matty explained before James could.

"He's afraid his son will be caught in the crossfire," Riley concluded, looking up from her screen where she'd brought up a picture of a clean-cut kid about Mac's age or even a little younger.

"Or his political reputation will be filled with holes. He's not exactly a staunch supporter of the military," Leanna added, cooly. "I'm not sure his party would rally support for him initiating an armed forces operation."

"Let's just say the Senator would like to try opening a line of communication before any means of force are used," Matty responded. "Accola is known to have strong ties to the current regime. They trust him and have agreed to let him come in as a neutral negotiator."

"Why not just issue an invitation then?" Bozer asked, looking from Matty back to the screen. "If he's already got a dialogue with the locals, and is some kind of pacifist, shouldn't he want to help."

"He's no longer in Afghanistan," James answered, mirroring his son's stance, arms crossed. "He's no longer with Doctors Without Borders. There was an incident almost a year ago when his hospital in Kabul was hit with shelling. He blamed the allied forces for the death of some of his patients and staff. He was gravely injured himself. After his recuperation he resigned."

"And the higher ups believe you can convince him to help our government out of the kindness of his heart?" Jack understood James was well-respected in the spy community but his choice for this specific mission wasn't adding up.

"One reason we were asked to assist is that we're the likely choice of agencies if the government doesn't want to go on record as assisting in this operation."

"One reason?" Mac picked up before Jack could. Jack wasn't sure but Mac seemed to look paler than before.

"We're also working against a very tight time-table," James hedged. Jack watched as he glanced to Matilda, the two obviously in on some need to know thing or another they may or may not choose to share.

Matty sighed, the gaze that met Jack almost apologizing. "They need a team that has proven capable of working on little intel."

"Meaning they need someone who can improvise because you all don't know diddly squat about what the hell we're going to find when we go looking for the target." Jack snorted, running a hand through his hair. He folded his arms over his chest, thinking this wasn't unlike the last two missions he'd pulled with his tactical teams. "Do you even know where to start looking?"

"Our sources say he moved back to Albinen," Matty added, unapologetically. She glanced to Riley who seemed to intuit their director's request. She focused on her computer, more images appearing on the big screen. Ones of the Switzerland countryside. "At least that was the last location intel places him. He no longer has family there, but it seems he may have been running a small clinic in the township proper, living close by in an even more remote area off the grid."

"I don't see how you get much more remote than Albinen." Riley supplied a satellite map of the area, splitting the screen so the other photos remained. Jack could see the area was near desolate, wilderness dominating. The pictures of the remote village appeared Christmas card worthy. "It says roughly one percent of the area is commercialized, but there is apparently a lot of tourism in the summer months. Most of it is forest. Only 400 residents and as of last year they were offering to pay pretty decent money for people to actually move there."

"There's a retirement option, dude," Mac muttered and Jack actually found it in himself to smile at the unexpected suggestion. He cut his gaze to Mac. His best friend still looked pale, exhausted even and despite the younger man's protests that he was fine, Jack couldn't help but to feel there was something off. It was one more reason for him to have reservations about the job.

Jack bumped the kid's shoulder. "Although our probabilities of you finding a sociopath in Santa's village is probably remote, I think I'll stick with my Hawaii back-up plan if it's all the same to you, dude."

"I have a feeling we're going to be wishing for some sunshine, warmth and sand all too soon." Mac arched a brow as Oversight launched into a plan for their team to travel to Zurich, where Leanna and Riley would head up base operations, then their four man team would go the rest of the way to Albinen-roughly a two hour trip-by helicopter.

Jack nodded, tuning back into James when he caught mention of the bird. "Why not fly into a closer airport?"

"That would be the second reason for the difficulty of this mission." James pointed to the topographical map Riley had supplied. "The mountainous region of Albinen makes for unpredictable, fast-changing weather patterns. It seems there is a likely storm heading into the area. They've already started rerouting air traffic from Bern, which is the nearest major airport."

"So we'll be flying in less the pleasant conditions?" Jack asked, massaging his arm.

"If you think we need to find a more qualified pilot…" James started hopefully.

Jack bit back on the first comment that came to his mind. "I've flown Apaches and Chinooks through sandstorms that created almost complete whiteout conditions. I think I can get us through a little snow."

"Uhh, it's not exactly a wintry mix that they're calling for, Jack," Riley broke in, her fingers once more flying over the keyboard with determination, a frown on her brow. "This looks more like the snowpocalypse."

"I'd say it's on the same scale of the storm Rudolph, Hermey, and Yukon Cornelius faced when they found the Bumble." Bozer studied the new satellite imagery. When everyone turned furrowed brows his way he shrugged his shoulders, holding up his hands. "What? So it was on last night. It's my favorite cartoon." He gestured to the screen again. "Besides, I'm not sure even Santa would attempt flying a sleigh if that model is correct."

"If Santa had me at the reigns he wouldn't have needed some freaky, red-nosed reindeer, Boze." Jack shook his head at the younger man, not completely discounting Bozer's self-proclaimed meteorological expertise, but instead reaffirming his own skills. Jack wasn't being cocky-well, cockier than any good pilot worth his weight in snowballs-, but he was just that good.

"If you're able to locate and secure the good doctor in a timely matter, we hope the storm system will be a moot point, Maverick." Matty flashed Jack a smirk and he wondered if the others in room even got the Top Gun reference considering none of them besides James- who was completely clueless when it came to pop culture- were even alive when the movie hit the screens in the eighties. Sometimes Jack felt really old.

"What timeframe are we looking at?" Mac asked and Jack caught the way he suddenly brought his arm over his midsection, the slight grimace on his face as he waited for Oversight or Matty to respond. Jack's attention was unexpectedly interrupted by his phone, which buzzed in his jacket pocket. Considering everyone who typically called him with any regularity, sans his grandparents and sister, were currently in the room he let it go to voicemail.

"Right now it looks like we have a twenty-four to thirty- six hour window," James was the one to reply. He kept his gaze on his son. "I don't think we'll have a problem achieving our directive if we're in the air in the next hour."

Jack was about to open his mouth to propose that possibly James just slow down a damn minute, but his cell once more interrupted what would have probably verged on insubordination but damned if Jack wasn't tired of being ordered about by Oversight, especially when his partner didn't seem to be a hundred percent. He grabbed the offending phone determined to turn it off when the familiar number grabbed his attention.

"Shit," Jack breathed, feeling a bit sick himself.

"Jack?" Mac asked, brows drawn together in concern.

"I need to take this." Jack glanced from his partner to Matty, gesturing to the phone and then to the door. She nodded for him to go, but didn't look exactly pleased that he was taking a call during a briefing. James had resumed his recanting of the plan he envisioned and didn't seem to care one way or the other if his 'pilot' left the building.

"Hammond?" Jack said as he was outside the War Room.

" _Jack."_

The use of his first name more than his former commander's tone alerted him to the fact the call was more than likely not a friendly check in.

"What's wrong?" A paranoid and slightly jaded little voice in Jack's head changed his question: Who's gone?

" _It's Joe White. He's been killed."_

"Damn." Jack ran a hand over his face, closing his eyes for a second, thinking of the last time he'd talked to the salty sonofabitch. The man had gotten him to Hawaii, made sure he found Steve in time to stop the plans of a madman and made it possible to save Mac's life in the process. Jack had sent a bottle of scotch and some Cubans to the SEAL commander as a thank you, but he'd not talked to him since. "How's McGarrett?"

" _He was with him when he died."_

"Is he alright?" Jack detected the weariness in his old friend's voice. Hammond was torn up. He and Joe had fought alongside each other for years. They brought Steve and Jack together, one SEAL, one Delta, almost like two old fraternity brothers showing off their prized prodigy. Jack understood that his friend McGarrett would be in a world of hurt. Losing Joe would have been like losing a second father. One in a life time was bad enough. Jack didn't want to think about Hammond being gone. He swallowed.

"Ham, what the hell happened? Why was Joe in Hawaii?"

" _They were state side. A past op was compromised, names leaked. The whole team except for Steve was taken out. It's a hell of a mess. I'm afraid it might get worse before it gets better."_

"Do they know who the leak is?" Jack realized how much damage a rat in your house could do when left unchecked. There was a reason most special ops used codenames or only their first names. No one wanted to be linked to the fallout of a mission. He leaned against the wall next to the War Room, suddenly feeling the days gone without much sleep of his latest mission.

" _We have an idea.. There's talk of putting a counter strike team together to deal with some high value targets. I was hoping you might be interested in joining in. I know things at Phoenix have been shaky. The space to clear your head might be beneficial, almost as beneficial as your skills would be to our cause. I would appreciate it. I know Steve sure as hell would."_

"Damn, Hammer. You know I'd be there in a heartbeat, but we just caught a hot one here at Phoenix." Jack rubbed at his weary eyes. He'd spoken to Hammer once after Mac had left. Jack hadn't been in a good place and he'd needed a voice of reason. Perseus Hammond wasn't one for coddling or sentiment, but he knew how to kick a man's ass into proper perspective. Jack glanced towards the War Room, thought the glass was shielded. "You've probably heard about the reporter being arrested in Kabul?"

" _If you're talking about Senator Moore's kid, then, yeah, I heard. The War College and Capitol Hill is a buzz. Joint Commission is being cautious with that one but I understood there was a plan in the works."_

"Looks like Mac is the plan. I can't leave him hanging in the wind. Not with how things are here." Yes, James deciding to head their current op was probably responsible for part of Jack's wariness but there was something else, too. Something Jack couldn't quite explain without feeling like the overprotective papa bear the others often accused him of being. He sighed heavily. "I can't bring myself to trust his bastard of a father, Ham, and the man himself is planning on tagging along. It feels wrong on so many levels."

" _Then you_ _need to stick with Shepherd because I may not know James MacGyver, but I do know something about Reuben Accola and men like him. I don't trust that bastard. Some people around here put him on par with Mother Teresa, but you and I both know any man who straddles a fence that_ _closely_ _for so long either has balls of steel or no balls at all."_

"I'd go with the latter," Jack clenched his fist, knowing that relishing in bad memories would not make the next couple of days any easier. He swallowed, feeling a tight knot of dread in his stomach. "A coward is just as dangerous as a warrior in some situations."

" _Sometimes more deadly, son. Don't turn your back on him. And don't leave Angus alone with him. Your boy's heart and damn trusting nature can be his downfall"_

Damned if that weren't the truth. Jack snorted at how well Hammond knew the kid. He let the back of his head fall against the wall. "I won't let Mac out of my sight and I'll reach out to Steve, see what he needs."

" _Watch your six, Tombstone."_

Hammer had gone before Jack could respond and he felt the sudden ache of wishing like hell he could be in two places at once. His gaze travelled back to the War Room, lingered on the impenetrable glass separating him from his team. The priority mission was Mac. Always. But the family Jack had gained on the battlefield and the man who'd taken him under his wing as well as his command had a siren's call all of its own. It seemed Mac wasn't the only one with heart issues and a need not to disappoint those he cared about most.

RcJ

Mac stepped from the bathroom into the aisle of the Phoenix jet. He hoped like hell that Jack was still talking with Danny Williams and hadn't noticed just how long his partner had been gone. It was Mac's third trip in their flight and his need to hydrate to accommodate climate and elevation change was sounding lame. Even Bozer had given him a curious look the last time he'd gotten up.

He'd splashed cold water on his face, hoping he didn't look quite as bad as he did in the small beveled mirror that hung over the sink. Fluorescents lights were a bitch. Mac wasn't sure what was going on with him, but wagered he might have picked up the bug making its way through the lab. A stomach virus, while annoying and unpleasant, could not thwart a mission, especially one where lives were in danger.

"Are you alright, son?"

The question came from the leather couch off to the right where James was sitting with his computer. Oversight's jet was not only larger than the one they usually took, but equipped with all the amenities. Mac often wondered if it was modeled after Air Force 1.

"I'm fine." He recognized his tone was tight and clipped, partially due to the way the word 'son' coming from his father still sent a sharp lance of pain through his chest. It was nearly as real as the ache now making itself known in the center of Mac's gut. "I'm fine." He recognized his tone was tight and clipped, partially due to the way the word 'son' coming from his father still sent a sharp lance of pain through his chest. It was nearly as real as the ache now making itself known in the center of Mac's gut.

Yet, a part of him softened when he recognized a familiar look of genuine concern. Memories of being a child, running to the man to fix whatever hurt he'd incurred brought a wave of vulnerability. There was a time when his dad had been caring and kind. He could be trusted to right a young Mac's world as only a parent can do, but years of practice of shutting down any such need for comfort allowed the grown man Mac was now to quickly erect a wall to block the insane desire to seek anything from James MacGyver.

He ran a hand through his hair, glancing to the front of the plane to catch sight of Jack, the other man's presence like a touch stone. When he returned his gaze to his father, the man was frowning. "When should we arrive?"

James's mouth twitched now. "Still prone to asking 'how much longer' I see."

Mac resisted the urge to roll his eyes, fearing he'd seem too much like the child his father was attempting to conjure. "If you're not sure, I can ask Jack. He has an uncanny ability to estimate air travel."

"Dalton is a man of many talents." James glanced to his computer screen but not before Mac caught the flash of irritation in his dark eyes. "We've been in the air roughly five hours so probably six more." His gaze returned to Mac. "Time for you to get some sleep, which by the looks of it, son, you could use."

Mac calculated the time difference. Zurich was nine hours ahead of Los Angeles. Oddly enough, with the eleven hour flight they would arrive in time for breakfast, which he had never eaten at home. Just the thought of food had him wrapping an arm over his stomach.

"Will we be taking Accola all the way to Afghanistan?" Mac forced his gaze to his father, determined not to show his distaste for the idea. It wasn't that he thought he might never be asked to return there someday during a mission. Mac wasn't vehemently opposed to the idea, not like Jack's aversion to Cairo, but he didn't exactly relish a return visit to the country.

"Is that a problem?"

The concern was back and Mac clenched his fist to keep from saying something he'd regret. "I'm just calculating time. Jack and I are expected in Austin for Christmas Eve."

"I saw the request for time off." James kept his face neutral and Mac was struck by the fact that he might have learned his ability to hide his feelings so well from the man in front of him. "I'm sure you'll be back in plenty of time to enjoy Beth's home cooking." The smile he gave Mac held no hint of emotion. "I never got a chance to try it for myself, but Wilt tells me it's legendary."

The dig hit its mark and Mac actually felt slightly guilty for having sent his father away in the summer instead of suffering through the Fourth of July festivities with the man. Doubt mixed poorly with Mac's stomach ache, suddenly making him weary and desperate to put some distance between him and his dad. He nodded to his father.

"Then I think I might actually grab some sleep."

What had mostly been an excuse to exit the conversation with Oversight actually seemed more appealing as Mac made his way to the front of the plane past Riley and Leanna who were both asleep, to find Bozer stretched out on one of the couches, rolled up like a burrito in Jack's Cowboy throw, Beats still over his ears, one of Riley's sleep masks covering his eyes. It had Beauty Queen stitched in bright pink.

"We really need to get that kid to put together his own go-bag." Jack said quietly, bringing Mac's gaze to him. He was sitting on the opposite couch, legs stretched out and resting on the table between the two sofas.

"He's still getting used to being sent off to the nether reaches of the world without more than a minute's notice."

Jack flashed another look at Bozer and then gave Mac a rueful grin. "It's not a lifestyle for the faint of heart."

Mac took a seat beside his partner, trying not to wince when his side pinched. He must have pulled a muscle on his run. Gesturing to Bozer he smirked at Jack. "Yet, he still can sleep like a rock. When did we lose that ability."

"He can sleep like that because he's still a baby." Jack's gaze stayed locked on Mac, his smile slipping just a margin. Mac recognized something akin to sadness in his friend's eyes, a familiar unwarranted guilt. "You were robbed of that a long time ago, kiddo. Ignorance allows for all kinds of peace we no longer can afford."

"Don't you mean innocence?" Mac rested against the couch, turning his head so he could look at his partner. Jack's close presence brought a sense of safety that lulled his rigid defenses, the ones his father's presence only sharpened and solidified. With security came another wash of weariness and Mac couldn't quite hold back on a wide yawn.

Jack smirked. "Now, we both know old Boze ain't pure as the driven snow, bud, but he sure as hell hasn't had those pink fluffy blinders torn from his eyes just yet."

Mac blinked, struggling to keep his eyes open. He glanced back across from them to Bozer and felt the heaviness of responsibility. Fighting off a shiver that had nothing to do with the realization that Bozer had chosen this life, but that he had provided the opportunity, Mac folded his arms over his chest to ward off the sudden chill. Hindsight was twenty-twenty and Mac wasn't sure he'd have changed the outcome if he'd been afforded the opportunity.

The unexpected weight of a Jack's leather jacket tossed over him had him blinking again, turning once more to his best friend. The older agent arched a brow. "How about you shut off that big brain of yours and get some shut eye, brother."

Mac pulled the jacket up around him, shifting further into the couch. He looked at Jack. "I'm sorry about Joe White."

"Yeah," Jack ran a hand over his mouth. "Me, too, bud."

"Did you talk to Steve?" Mac asked around another yawn. He and Jack hadn't had any time alone to discuss the situation. Mac still wasn't sure what had happened other than a former team of McGarrett's had been targeted, information compromised. He hadn't been able to stop himself from thinking that Jack had once been a part of one of McGarrett's teams. Joe White one of the men responsible for bringing them together and of course that was enough information for Mac's imagination to collude with his ever present fears of losing those he loved to conjure the possibility that this new threat could somehow include Jack.

Jack shook his head. "Danny said he was incommunicado. Doesn't surprise me. Joe was like a father to him."

"Fathers are complicated," Mac said quietly, not daring to look down the aisle to his own.

"Yeah, brother. They sure as hell are," Jack agreed, his glance roaming to where Mac's hadn't strayed. When he returned his focus to Mac his face was serious. "McGarrett's putting together a team to go after the men responsible."

"You want to be a part of it?" Mac asked casually, struggling to straighten from where he'd sunk into the soft leather. Jack's coat slipped off his chest and as he reached to catch it before it hit the floor, he was the one caught off guard when a sharp pain pinched at his side once more.

"Mac?" Jack's hand was on his arm, stilling his movement. The answer to Mac's question lost in the onslaught of concern Mac could hear in the one simple syllable of his name.

"I'm oaky." Mac took a cautious breath, the pain disappearing as quickly as it had come. He gently shook off the touch, forcing a smile he didn't at all feel as Jack retrieved the coat and handed it back to him. Mac hoped to convince his partner that everything was fine. "I think I pulled a muscle on my parade route this morning."

Throwing Jack's words back at him worked, at least for the time being, and his partner rolled his eyes. "Don't you mean marathon?"

"It was more of a fast stroll." Mac gently eased himself back to the couch, carefully pulling Jack's jacket up over his chest. He kept his gaze on his best friend. "So about the mission…"

"I'm not sure I'd call this courtesy call to retrieve Accola a mission but…"

"No," Mac shook his head knowing he should have probably been more focused on their current job but not able to now that Jack had mentioned McGarrett's plans. "I'm talking about Five-0 going after Joe White's killer."

Jack brought a hand to the back of his neck, a tell that he was more stressed about the situation than he wanted to let on. "I told Williams the same thing I told Hammond, my first priority right now is Phoenix."

Mac knew that what Jack meant was that his first priority was to act as Mac's overwatch. Always. It simultaneously brought a great relief and a slight irritation. Mac frowned. "You said it yourself, Jack. This is probably just a simple pick up. If you need to go with Steve…"

"Steve has his own team, Angus." The tone was harsher than normal, rare frustration bringing back a touch of Jack's commander's voice, the one he used to use with his favorite bomb nerd back in the desert. "I'm where I need to be." He met Mac's gaze, and his dark eyes softened. "Where I want to be. I'm not going anywhere no matter what anyone does or says, at least not until we get back from picking up the 'package' for the Grinch back there and bundle them both off to the Sandbox. Got it?"

Mac couldn't help to focus on the 'until' but he forced himself to nod, not exactly trusting his voice. He cursed whatever the hell was going on with his body, his miserable physical state wreaking havoc on his emotions. He bit back another yawn, proof that what he probably needed was just what his father and Jack had suggested- sleep. He'd no doubt feel better and more like himself after a few hours of rest.

"You got any more tall tales about Brazil?" He asked Jack, resting his head against the couch once more, realizing he sounded a bit like a tired kid begging for one more bed time story.

Jack's familiar smirk confirmed his theory and Mac knew it took all the older man's restraint not to reach out and ruffle Mac's hair to tease him about it. "I might have saved one or two."

Now it was Mac's turn to roll his eyes. "Let me guess, there's a woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to Kate Upton and there had to be a motorcycle. It's not rated PG13 which is why you didn't share it with Bozer and Riley."

Jack's grin widened. "You know I keep the best Jacked-up tales just for you, sweetheart."

"Let's hear it then." Mac pulled Jack's coat tighter around him, settling further into the couch. He'd no doubt be asleep before his partner could relate all the imaginary woman's fine attributes or the completely made-up lewd details of their exploits but he'd let Jack's voice lull him into a place of peace, a space away from the physical pain and the anxiety for whatever was awaiting them in Switzerland and beyond.

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

Let's Be Enemies

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Thank you to each and every one who has reviewed and commented. I am trying to get back to you personally, but know that your time and effort is so appreciated. Thanks to Mary who helped so much with this. It sometimes pay to have friends who speak two languages. And please know that while Albinen is a real place, I hope I have done it no disservice in this completely made-up depiction.

RcJ

Even with the sleep the kid managed on the plane, Jack still thought Mac looked sick. He figured some of it could have been due to the chopper ride. Jack's skill at the helm hadn't helped much with the crosswinds from the approaching storm, especially over the alpine mountain range. The views had been stunning, but Mac had been more than ready to land. Jack had agreed because as much as he hated to admit it, he was worried about them making it back to Zurich if the storm moved closer. The sooner they found Accola and started the return trip the better.

Jack had put the chopper down in a clearing near a lake about a mile outside the quaint town. It wasn't a long walk, but one hampered by the biting cold. Cloud cover had set in which Riley had informed them was a typical day in Albinen in December, along with the -4 temp. Add the wind chill and it felt like -20. She had assured it was supposed to warm up to a balmy 36 degrees before the end of the day. Jack hoped they weren't still hanging around to enjoy feeling their toes and fingers again.

"This is the address we have for the clinic." Oversight announced, peering into the darkened windows of the medical office. It looked to have once been a cottage, now converted like many of the other structures into a local business. A bakery. A bookstore. A bistro. All spread out in perfect symmetry around the square. The village really did look like a postcard especially with the snow and Christmas lights still twinkling in the early dawn.

"It says they open at 8," Bozer offered helpfully glancing to his watch. He rubbed his gloved hands together, his teeth chattering slightly before nodding his head towards the sign. His oversized military cold gear parka made him look a bit like a snowman about to tip over.

Jack pushed his wool hat back, frowning at his teammate. "It's 0700 and I don't see a Starbucks in sight." His gaze briefly drifted heavenwards to the growing cloud cover and dark sky. "I say time doesn't apply to us." He glanced around the small village square once more, still quiet and uninhabited, before turning to Mac. His partner had been mostly silent on the march in, and was now sticking near Jack, both signs he was feeling like crap. Jack stamped his boots lightly to knock most of the snow from them. "Mac, you want to whip up something for a key or should I…"

"WiekannichIhnenhelfen?"

Jack turned at the woman's voice that had come from behind him, his hand going to his side where his gun was discreetly holstered under his own parka. The curt demand had not invoked the small figure he found regarding them with a look of distrust. She seemed dwarfed by her bright red jacket and blanket scarf, but she eyed them fiercely, gripping her purse in one of her mitten covered hand as if it might be a sufficient weapon if need be.

"Brauchen Sie Hilfe?" She repeated again in the same commanding tone that made Jack want to stand up a bit straighter. Her look, albeit still mistrusting, softened as small lines appeared on her forehead, almost hidden beneath gray bangs. The German actually made sense this time, his loose grasp of the language allowing him enough insight to know that the frowning _Frau_ had just inquired if they needed help. Oversight gave a fluid response in German, adding an apologetic bow. Jack caught most of the easy lie flowing from James, but was grateful when the woman tilted her head and asked in heavily accented English if they were Americans.

"I guess my accent gave me away," James gave a self-deprecating smile, gesturing to the rest of them. "Yes, we're American. Here for the holidays, staying at La Demeure des Elfes."

"Beautiful place," the woman nodded, regarding them with a more relaxed posture now. Skiing season was only just beginning but Jack was certain the natives were used to tourists and excited to see the business they would bring to the small town. La Demeure des Elfes was also an expensive place and Jack supposed the idea that the strangers were rich Americans and not some vagrants possibly hoping to score drugs or cash from the clinic eased her mind. "You'll have met Grim then?"

"We love dogs," Bozer added smoothly when Oversight faltered. Jack had to give the younger man a gold star for reading through all the notes Riley had sent, his correct answer had the woman relaxing her stance, releasing the grip on her purse. "He's a charmer."

"Ja, he's a good one that Grim." She returned her gaze to James, the folds of her face morphing into a hesitant smile. She spoke carefully and pronounced each word as if she were out of practice in conversations with outsiders. "Mein Name ist Amelia. Welcome to Albinen. I trust your stay is well."

"I'm Jim and yes, it's been lovely," James gestured to the painted sign on the door, "Veronique, the owner of the inn, said the clinic would be open today." James turned his gaze to Mac, then back to Amelia, his face taking on a slightly worried expression and Jack gave the man credit for the act. "My son isn't feeling well this morning. We'd hoped to see the doctor before our day of sightseeing."

Jack caught the way Mac suddenly straightened his shoulders, standing up taller than before, not sure if the kid was taken aback by his father's inclusion of him into their off the cuff cover story or perhaps by the man's astuteness and observation skills. Jack couldn't help but to wonder himself if Oversight had actually picked up on the fact his son wasn't one hundred percent or if it was just a convenient way to explain them lurking around the medical clinic this early in the morning.

"Typically, yes. That is true." Amelia gestured to the door again, her gaze briefly going to Mac before settling back on James. "Der Doktor is on sabbatical until the new year. I come to clean the clinic while he is gone."

Jack glanced to James, reading the resolution in his dark eyes. They had hoped Accola would be in the village and not at his cabin, but it seemed luck wasn't on their side – what else was new. "Surely there is a way to reach him in an emergency? To have him come in for a call?" James asked, brows drawn together in question.

Amelia looked back at Mac more closely. "Is this a medizinischer Notfall?"

"No," Mac was quick to respond, shaking his head slightly. He placed a hand over his stomach, offering his most disarming smile which had been known to break much tougher women, even occasionally cracking Matilda Weber's stone defenses. "There's no emergency. I think I overindulged in the delights of the kneipe last night, that's all."

"There is an Apotheke." She pointed down the small snow-covered street, her face taking on a grandmotherly disapproval. Amelia clucked her tongue. "Medicine for your lack of forbearance."

"Danke," James nodded, smiling at the woman who offered Mac another look of motherly exasperation.

"Next time iss mehr richtige Nahrung. Ja?"

Mac nodded, looking sheepishly at her. "Werde ich."

With that last word of wisdom for Mac to maybe eat more at the bistro and drink less at the pub she dismissed them with a turn of her back, shaking her head and muttering about foolish Americans as she disappeared around the corner of the building where Jack assumed there was another entrance.

"How far away did Riley say the old guy's cabin was?" Bozer asked a hint of dread in his voice as he looked up at the sky. A light snowfall had begun, the flakes swirling down around them as if they were figures in a snow globe that had been shaken. It would have been almost peaceful if it weren't for the tight timeline they were facing and the fact Jack could feel Mac practically leaning against him now.

"It's a fair hike." James looked to Jack and then to Mac, rubbing the back of his gloved hand over his brow. "Riley's maps didn't show a passable road fit for a car. We could find some ATV's."

"That would mean waiting for a shop to open or stealing them, one will cost us time, the other will bring us attention we don't want or need," Mac replied, his eyes drifting over the vacant, snowy square. Jack didn't miss the kid's measured breath, the way the lines around his eyes had appeared like they did when he was in pain. "No. Hiking in is our best option. We have snowshoes. We can make it on foot."

Jack held back on suggesting they at least check out the pharmacy Amelia had mentioned and even admired the kid's compunction right up until almost forty minutes later when he and Mac were off the side of the trail, him supporting his partner's weight as the younger man emptied his stomach of the power bar Bozer had persuaded him to eat on the chopper.

"Mac?" Jack said quietly, hating the misery filled look the younger man shot him when he was finished, his face almost matching the color of the snow. "What the hell, dude?"

"I'm okay," Mac said hoarsely. He wiped a hand over is mouth, making it to his feet with Jack's help, pain flashing for a moment in his glassy eyes. Oversight and Bozer were a likely klick ahead of them, which was unusual in and of itself. At first Jack had wondered if the kid's lag was a way to keep some distance between him and his gungho father but the longer they hiked the more it became apparent, Mac wasn't merely choosing to keep a slower pace. His body was demanding it. Once more Jack felt his own stomach knot painfully with worry.

"I call bullshit on that one, dude." Jack bent to pick Mac's hat from the snow, where the kid had tossed it before being sick. "Why the hell didn't you say something?" It was mostly a rhetorical question because he already knew the damned answer.

"What was I supposed to say, Jack," Mac snapped, pulling away from his touch, nearly tumbling over into the shin deep snow. A pained hiss escaped Mac's dry lips, one arm going reflexively over his middle. He lowered his voice although Jack was pretty sure James and Bozer were way out of earshot. Bitterness was bleeding into the irritation from before. "Sorry, Oversight, sir, but I have a tummy ache and won't be going on the very important, highly sensitive mission this morning. Just send my team without me while I curl up on the couch with some tea and crackers. Take over my life as you wish."

"That would have been a start." Jack snapped right back before he could help himself, worry mixing with self-blame. He took a deep breath, the cold air biting at his lungs like someone was stomping around in his chest with cleated boots. There was nothing they could do about it now. Jack rubbed a gloved hand over his hat, his huff of breath crystallizing in front of him. "You could have at least come clean to me. I need to know when you're sick. How many times over the years have we been through this? It's still my job to watch your back. We have to be on the same page, Angus," Jack also kept his voice quiet, moving closer to his partner just in case. "It's more important than ever."

"You mean since it seems my dad might be trying to kill you." Mac held Jack's gaze, daring him to admit he hadn't just confirmed the big ass elephant in the room. The kid's blue eyes were brightened and Jack wondered if he had a fever. There was a wildness in the blue that had Jack's fist clenching. Controlled, even-keeled Mac was what he was used to dealing with. This was closer to the pissed off, hurting nineteen year old he'd first met in Afghanistan, the one that had re-emerged and settled in after Oversight was revealed to be no other than James MacGyver. Jack yearned for things to go back to normal, even as he understood that was like Pandora putting all the vile things she'd released back into her pretty little box.

"I don't think James is trying to kill me, kid," Jack tried, knowing he was just as guilty as his partner of keeping secrets. He pinched the bridge of his nose when Mac's frown deepened, his glare only hardening. "Not exactly anyway. Not on purpose." He forced a smirk, which did nothing to soften Mac's anger, or quiet the storm in his gaze. "Don't get me wrong. If it happened I don't think your daddy would be shedding any tears, but I don't think that's necessarily his end game. I can't imagine you really believe that it is either. Search your feelings, young Skywalker. Your dad's far from Vader."

Mac's shoulder's relaxed from where they were hiked up practically around his ears, some of the tension giving way to resolution as Jack's attempt at levity worked some of its old magic. Part of the kid's relenting was probably good old exhaustion if the dark shadows beneath the Mac's eyes were telling. It was obvious, at least to Jack, that his partner felt too shitty to maintain his frustration, or his indignation about his father's questionable motives.

"His intent might not be exactly malicious in nature, but I think he's definitely determined to put space between us. To somehow undo what he started in the first place." Mac rubbed a hand over his weary eyes. "That's why I had to come on this mission. I couldn't give him another excuse to send us in different directions."

"James MacGyver has about as much chance of dismantling our relationship as he had a hand in creating it, brother. Don't give him more power than he already thinks he has." Jack winced at the look of doubt on Mac's flushed face, his fingers twisting in the soft material of Mac's hat he still held. He wondered if he had not made his position clear enough to the kid, especially in light of all the weeks he'd been away, the missions he'd reluctantly accepted in the line of duty and what he hoped was his attempt to keep the peace with Mac's father. He desperately wanted to find a way for them to work together.

He reached out and gripped Mac's wrist, wishing he'd thought to remove his glove so he could actually have checked his partner's pulse as well as offering some tactile confirmation that he wasn't going any damn where. He met Mac's gaze, holding it with earnest. "He gave orders for us to work together, manipulated the situation to his advantage. That could have been any high ups doing. Hammond. Your acting C.O. Anyone that had an objective they wanted filled. The rest of the work was up to us. Your daddy sure as hell didn't order me to re-up for another tour. No one suggested it. I promise you that. In fact, Hammond tried to boot me back to Texas himself. I did that for you…" Jack hesitated. "And for me."

"But you see what he's doing now? Manipulating the situation again, making it so you can't stay here, so that it's hard for us to work together." Mac swallowed thickly, his breathing a little more frantic as he worked himself up again. "He's taking your choice away, ordering you off to wherever he chooses-separating us."

Jack ran a hand down his mouth, wishing like hell he had an answer the kid wanted to hear, instead of the clearcut 'yes' that sounded through his mind. Jack saw it clearly. Even if he'd tried not to. James was doing just what Mac said, and avoiding talking about it hadn't helped one damn thing. It was as productive as trying to sidestep the giant seven-ton mammal that had taken up residence in your tiny house. The stink from the piles of shit were becoming impossible to ignore.

"I see that you're sick," Jack reached out a hand, gripping the back of his best friend's neck, dread and worry twisting his gut. "And I see that we're ass deep in snow and a freaking mission that needs me on my game more than ever. I know this sucks, bud, and I promise you I'll fix it. I swear I will fix it, whatever it takes, somehow I'll make it right, but _right_ now I need you to hold it together." Jack gave a hint of a smile. "At least as much as your sensitive girly constitution will allow."

Mac rolled his eyes, his hand rubbing his side, shoulders slumping slightly. "Leave it to me to get a stomach virus as an early Christmas present."

"As long as it's not the kind of gift that keeps on giving." Jack let Mac go, offering him his hat back with a half-hearted grin. "I don't want it, and I sure as hell don't want to take it to Austin with us. Now put this on before you add a cold to your growing list of ailments."

"We're still going?" Mac rubbed a hand over his forehead before doing as Jack said and putting on his hat.

"Of course we are." Jack started back onto the trail, wanting to catch up to the others and put some distance between him and the dark thoughts their conversation had once more stirred. Jack didn't doubt they could overcome anything but right now he sensed things might get harder before they took a turn for the better. He kept his pace in check in deference to the kid's condition. "Nana's probably been on a first name basis with the reps over at QVC since the summer. We have to collect our loot and eat our weight in Christmas ham, which I'd never tell Bozer this, but has his pastrami beat hands down."

"Let's hope she stayed away from any matching flannel pajamas. I still shudder at the t-shirts and hats she had made last year," Mac added albeit a little breathlessly, seemingly as eager as Jack to change the subject.

Jack let his mind contemplate the travesty of twin sleepwear instead of worrying over any real trouble. "She might go with silk this year," a glance at the thick gray clouds and the increasing snow had him picking up his pace slightly even as the idea of spending the upcoming holiday in Texas worked to lighten his mood. "Maybe even some monograms."

"Stop," Mac groaned.

"Come on now, bud it's not like it's a giant pink bunny suit…" Jack flashed a devilish grin over his shoulder, secretly thrilled his banter was returning some semblance of normalcy, but the taunt died on his lips. Mac was hunched over, panting, one arm curled around his middle, the other still holding his wool cap buried in the snow to keep him from falling over.

"Mac?" Jack turned on his heel, was back to the younger man's side in an instant, kicking up a dust of white powder as he went. His heart pounded against his chest as he gripped his partner's arm. This was not looking like some stomach virus. "You sick again?"

Mac shook his low hanging head, trying to curl even more into himself. His short panted breath loud enough to be heard over the wind whipping the snow around them. "Hurts."

Jack knelt, the cold breaching the material of his pants nothing compared to the chill that settled into his chest when he got a look at his partner's face. The kid's eyes was squeezed shut, his face even paler than it had been moments before glistening with a thin sheen of sweat Jack had mistook as the evidence of his exertion. Mac was in pain. "What hurts, brother? Where?"

He waited patiently, even though wild fear demanded he take the younger man by the shoulders and force him to look him in the eye. Finally Mac breathed a little deeper, his blue eyes locking with Jack's, tension leaving his body gradually.

"My side, it's worse now than it was."

"Worse? How long have you been hurting?" Jack frowned, working hard at keeping his tone neutral, easily recognizing the unguarded flash of panic in the kid's gaze. Him letting his emotions run wild would not help matters.

The sudden fear on the kid's face might have been uncharacteristic but the look of quick contemplation that took over was not. Mac was trying to do damage control, reveal just enough not to be lying. Jack tightened his hold on the younger man's shoulder, already dreading the answer. "Angus?"

Mac straightened some, but still held a hand to his side. Even though Mac's relief was palpable, his voice was strained. "It started when I was on my run," He licked his lips, gave a telling shrug of his shoulder when Jack arched a brow. "Maybe sooner, like when I woke up. Okay. Honestly, it might have woken me up, but..."

"And that didn't ring some warning bells, dude?" Jack couldn't find it in himself to be furious, too many other emotions battling for dominance right alongside his righteous anger and irritation at his best friend's lack of self-preservation. After all, hadn't Jack's gut been bothering him, too? Alerting him to the very real possibility that something was wrong with the kid. He suspected they both had very similar reasons for ignoring all the warning signs. But knowing and understanding their reasons didn't make this situation any less fucked up or scary as hell. They were in the middle of the snowy woods, with a blizzard beating down around them.

"It just started out as a dull ache. I told you I ate that stupid Chinese," Mac defended, doubling over slightly when another wave of pain seemed to hit. He grit his teeth and looked up at Jack. "But it shifted on the plane, got worse, more prominent."

"And it's your right side?" Jack rubbed a hand over his face. Fuck. He glanced to his partner's hand still tucked tight against him as if he could hold back a new wave of pain. The former Delta knew the brainiac in front of him had to have put the pieces together before him. They'd seen this in Afghanistan. Hell, even on a mission not long after they'd come to DXS. Thornton had been sidelined by a nasty case of appendicitis. Paralyzing dread warred with an aching need to knock some sense into the stubborn kid, all of which was trumped by the overwhelming desire for Jack to get his partner to a hospital. He shook his head, blowing out a long breath. "You know what that could mean. Right? You get how bad this could be?"

Mac gave a quick nod, followed by another grimace. Pain flashed on his face when he tried to straighten more, his breath hitching. "It's still not too bad. Not much worse than a pulled muscle."

"Pulled muscles don't make you sick, Mac," Jack huffed, pulling a glove off his hand to so his bare fingers could rest against Mac's flushed cheek. His partner didn't offer to move, or to rebuke the big brother act when Jack ran a hand over the kid's hair with a low, frustrated growl. "The last time I checked they don't give you a fucking fever either. You're burning up. In a freaking blizzard. Only you and Heat Miser could pull that off."

"Mac! Jack!" Bozer calling their names broke the momentary silent stare off they were having.

Jack stood, halfway turning towards the direction Bozer's voice was coming from. He jerked his hat off, running a hand through his own shorn hair. "Fuck!" He threw the wool garment to the ground where it lay beside Mac's discarded one. He was tempted to take his frustration out on them by jumping up and down and driving the matching wool into the frozen ground.

"It still could just be a virus." Mac's quiet tone suggested how little confidence he had in that theory. He mirrored Jack's position, swaying slightly, his face blanching.

"Damn it, Mac," Jack levelled him with a disbelieving scowl. "Have you met us? Since when do we- _you_ -do anything the easy way."

"This isn't my fault," Mac muttered almost petulantly just as Bozer's voice rang out again. Misery was showing on his face and he once again curled more into himself to ease the strain on his abdomen.

Jack was instantly sorry for yelling and ached to trade places with the hurting kid. He took his frustration at that impossibility out on their teammate. "Damn it, Bozer, use the fucking comms," Jack moved his hand to his ear, speaking louder than he had to as he activated his mic.

There was a burst of static and a screech that alerted Jack why Bozer hadn't followed protocol but resorted to the old fashioned form of making contact. It also proved his earlier point about their shitty luck. "What else could go wrong?" He breathed, trying to regain his calm, and to keep himself from just tossing the kid over his shoulder and getting them both back to the damned bird before it was too late.

"It's not the worst situation we've been in, Jack. We _are_ here to track down a highly-skilled physician," Mac offered.

Jack laughed, though his thoughts were anything but humorous. "A doctor who happens to hate American soldiers, kid." He met Mac's glassy gaze, his fingers curling into fists. "One , who up until five minutes ago I wouldn't consider letting share the same air as you, let alone contemplate allowing him to get his bloody stethoscope anywhere near you."

"If we do our job quickly enough, we won't even have to consider that option." Mac's gaze held Jack's, seemingly reading the older man's mind. He stood taller and tried to hide the wince it caused as he attempted to show Jack he was still a go for the mission. "There's no way another team could get in here and collect Accola in time to meet the deadline they've given for the reporter. Not with this weather. How many pilots are as good as you? We're his one chance."

Bozer's voice rang out again, much closer this time and Jack knew he had not one shred of a chance in hell of convincing the kid to go back to the chopper without his daddy or Accola in tow. Not without knocking him unconscious. Even then they were more than an hour out from their bird. Damn. Damn it to hell.

"We have to be close now," Mac added. He exhaled slowly, standing tall but Jack could easily make out the tight lines that had once more surfaced around the kid's eyes, the slight hitch in his breathing. "I'll be okay. I promise."

Jack held his best friend's stare, desperately trying to see the competent agent before him, the grown man completely able to make his own decisions about what he was and wasn't capable of, instead of the little brother that needed protecting, the one Jack would always feel beholden to save and buffer from everything, medical conditions included. He picked up the stupid hats and tossed one to Mac.

"You better damn well be." Jack shot another glance to his partner. "I'll never forgive you if you run out on me."

"Ditto." Mac gave a shaky grin, using one hand to maneuver the hat back on his head. The other arm, Jack noted, stayed glued to his side.

"Mac! Jack!"

Jack rolled his eyes and gently took Mac's arm, moving them in the direction of Bozer's latest shouts. With their fucking luck the man would bring an avalanche down on their head or at least alert whatever hungry wolves lurking about that lunch was ready.

"Damn it, Bozer!" He called back. "We're coming already."

RcJ

Mac looked out across the open field in the distance, having finally broken the tree line after what felt like a five mile trek up hill through an ocean of snow. The wind had picked up and big fat flakes fell heavier now, making him squint to see the ribbons of smoke swirling from the chimney. For a brief second he was transported back in time to a memory of a New Years spent in Colorado with Nikki. A romantic weekend getaway with a cabin that, although not quite as remote as this one tucked in the Swiss mountainside, had been as quaint and rustic as the one that allegedly belonged to Rueben Accola.

"How you doing, kid?" Jack's quiet inquiry broke the enchantment, grounding Mac once more in reality as well as the near knee-deep snow. He blinked, trying to clear the lingering fog inside his head. His best friend's shoulder brushed against his, leaning close to be heard over the howling weather.

"I'm okay." Mac knew the pat answer would earn him an eye roll, which it did, but his father and Bozer were standing within ear shot and he didn't want James MacGyver hovering or Bozer freaking out. He'd asked Jack to keep the fact he was sick between them, at least until they had made contact with the good doctor. When his partner's gaze didn't move from his face, Mac sighed, rubbing a glove-clad hand over his eyes.

"The pain's about the same, Jack." His condition, along with the niggling suspicion that he was only going to get worse, made Mac's temper short, the desire to get back to the chopper and out of this white hell and away from his father didn't help matters either. Not to mention he was being less than forthright with the man he'd promised not to lie to. The dull ache had intensified to a near constant, sharp and stabbing pain in his lower right side, growing in intensity whenever he had to strain his muscles to make it through the deep snow. His lower back hurt as did his legs. He was freezing one minute, and burning up the next. Maybe it really was just the flu, but no good would come from elaborating. When he still felt Jack's intense stare he sighed, meeting the older man's eyes wearily. "I just want to sit down, somewhere warm."

"I hear you, brother." Jack's gaze moved to the cabin with a renewed resolve. Mac did want to be out of the cold, but he also understood how to get his best friend focused. Giving Jack a tangible mission was in everyone's best interest, like issuing a bird dog a command to retrieve.

"So what's the plan here, Oversight, sir?" Jack turned to James, kneading his glove-clad fingers. "Are we sure he's alone in there?"

They'd lost communications with Riley. The storm blocking radio signals as well as putting satellite imagery on the fritz.

"We've had no alert that Accola is cohabitating with anyone, nor does it have any real relevance on our mission." James stepped closer to Jack, eyes on something behind the cabin. "It's highly unlikely he's armed. He's one man. I don't think he poses a threat."

"Knowing how many people might be waiting for me on the other side of a door is kind of relevant to several things, sir. Like how much back-up I need, or how many weapons or the amount of ammunition to carry." Mac didn't miss the pause as Jack let his hard gaze linger on James MacGyver, nor how his hands had curled into fists. The implication that Oversight had overlooked such crucial facts in the past was not lost on Mac. It once more gave him reason to worry about the missions Jack had been sent on alone. "And unfortunately I've learned the hard way that one man can pose the worst kind of threat when he has the advantages of anonymity and subterfuge."

"On that note, how about I just go knock on the door, tell him I'm lost," Bozer suggested, once more claiming his role as peacemaker. "I can tell him I was snowshoeing when the weather turned. Once I'm inside, I can…"

"There's always the truth." Mac straightened, clenching his teeth, when the movement sent another sharp stab through his side. He felt nausea wash over him, his heart pounding. He wasn't sure this particular mission required the type of thought and energy Bozer was suggesting even if the Joint Forces had decided a face to face was crucial for a successful outcome. Mac suspected they worried any contact might give the doctor a heads up and a reason to disappear if Accola really was merely a burned out doctor, getting away on sabbatical then he wouldn't be awaiting some clandestine kidnapping by an American spy agency or even anticipating a visit by any officials. His suggestion had the others looking his way just as another knife like pain lanced through his side. The sensation was staggering, nearly doubling him over with its intensity. Mac couldn't hold back the groan as he tipped forward and felt Jack's hands' grip his shoulders just in time to spare him a face plant in the snow.

"Easy, brother." His partner's breath was hot against his ear and Mac pressed his forehead against the older man's coat as he tried to ride out the spasm that seemed to last longer than any of the others had.

"Mac?" Bozer's voice was closer, worried and Mac had to force himself to straighten up to flash the other man a shaky half grin.

"Or maybe we go with my story that I have a son who needs to see a doctor." James was now watching Mac closely from over Jack's shoulder, a frown on his brow. "What's really going on here, Angus?"

Mac didn't respond, but managed to straighten himself to his full height, his gaze finding Jack's, more concerned with answering the question burning in his best friend's dark eyes that the one his father was still waiting to have explained.

"I'm okay." This time his declaration was received with only a quick nod and a squeeze of his shoulder.

"You don't look it," James responded as if the answer had been his alone.

"I've been feeling bad since we left L.A.," Mac confessed with a resigned sigh, his arm curling over his middle again. "I thought it was a stomach virus, but…"

"But what?" Bozer chimed in, his gaze going from Mac to Jack and back.

"We're going to ask Accola to check out Mac before we tell him who we are." Jack spoke to James through clenched teeth, verbally sidestepping Bozer's demand for details, his gaze holding Oversight's. "From this point on, he's my priority, Oversight, not Accola and not the Senator's kid. Surely, we can agree on that?"

To Mac's surprise his father didn't outright disagree-something he'd expect even if Jack had proclaimed the sky as blue and the grass as green. Neither did he admonish the fact Jack was taking lead. His dark eyes stayed on Mac, a trademark look of disappointment and perplexity etched in the lines of his face. "You should have told me, Angus."

"Said the very black pot to the also black kettle." Jack grumbled, sounding almost like his old smart-ass self. The hissed, 'back off' was seethed through his clenched jaw and Mac wasn't sure if he'd been the only one to hear it, like a wolf pup detecting it's protector's low guttural growl long before the approaching predator.

"I'll let the fact you just called me a hypocrite slide, Dalton." James slid his gaze to Jack, eyes narrowing, a clear warning in his tone and a lack of awareness that he was not really in charge. "But you're on thin ice, agent."

Mac was thinking Jack wasn't the only one as he watched Oversight turn, draw his shoulders back and start for the cabin without another word. When he returned his gaze to Jack, his partner actually winked. "Actually it's snow, sir. Lots and lots of fucking snow."

"You're not helping," Bozer pointed out when James didn't bother to turn around although Jack had made sure he heard. He frowned at Mac, even as he stepped around Jack to clamp a hand firmly on Mac's other arm so they could start moving as well. "If you knew you were sick, you should have told Matty you couldn't come on the mission, man. I know you're Mr. Ultra Responsibility but this is going too far."

Mac ignored his friend's comment, biting his lip when the throbbing pain in his side grew in intensity once more. He looked up at Jack, who was now staring after James, hands propped on his hips. Mac was unsettled by the fact his best friend wore an expression he couldn't quite name. Over the years he thought he'd catalogued them all and wished to blame the wool hat pulled low over his best friend's eyes for his confusion.

The sudden ache that bloomed in his chest with the realization they were in uncharted territory, an emotional landscape possibly as wild and treacherous as the Alps in the winter, was more painful than the physical ones that had been assaulting his body the last several hours. He swallowed hard, shivering, realizing with a start and an unwanted clarity that perhaps the reason he'd been so determined to come was not solely due to the fact he didn't want to be separated from his team, but that he'd somehow intuited that this mission was possibly their last.

"I'd do it again," he whispered, garnering a deeper frown from Bozer, the grip around his arm tightening. Whatever happened, Mac knew it to be the truth. Stomach virus, flu, even appendicitis be damned, he would not miss this chance.

There were too many times in his life, too many moments that had slipped through his hands unrecognized for what they were, when he didn't realize he was at the end of something until it was gone. He'd not known that the certain smile he'd shared with his mother was the last, that the next time he clung to her hand it would be cold and unyielding. The last time James MacGyver walked through the door of their home had been unspectacular, and routine, until it wasn't...until it never once happened again.

There was the hug he shared with Harry before he'd headed off back to Afghanistan. Mac would have held on longer, clung tighter, possibly said the words he'd been thinking if he'd only known they'd never share another. There was the last time he'd held Nikki before Lake Commo, his heart intact and brimming with feelings as real as he'd ever known, and the last words he'd shared with Pena before the Ghost's bomb had silenced his voice forever.

Lasts were cruelly never unveiled as lasts until it was too late. Pinning them down beforehand was like trying to save snowballs in your pocket.

Mac took a deep breath, blinking flakes out of his eyes as a shiver raced up his spine. He gritted his teeth against the now nearly constant pain, his body ready for a break.

"I had to be here." Mac cleared his throat, wincing when a phantom twinge tweaked his side as Bozer nudged them along. He set his eyes on Jack who was just in front of them, even as he could feel Bozer's confused gaze seeking further explanation, demanding a legitimate reasoning. There was none to give.

Mac, instead, kept his focus on his partner, following in Jack's footsteps even as the quickly falling snow tried to cover them, conceal them away from him. He dared not to lose track of the older man, irrationally fearing his best friend might disappear into the white expanse like some phantom Mac had merely conjured. A distant part of his mind recognized that the fever was starting to play tricks on him but he also knew that the foreboding feeling he had had these past few weeks was real. Something had to eventually give and Mac feared, was almost certain, that it would come at the expense of his team, perhaps the loss of his partner. As he moved along, pushing himself to keep going towards the glowing light in the cabin's windows, Mac couldn't help but to wonder if knowing the last time was coming would make accepting the loss of it any less devastating. He had his highly educated guess that being hit by a runaway train felt the same whether one saw it coming or was stupidly looking the other way when it ran you over. Mac smartly gathered heartbreaks were most likely the same. Forewarned or not, one would still be broken.

To be continued…

A/N: As I wrote this, I thought it appropriate for the end of a year. December 31 is the one time when we truly know the end of something precious is near, but also realize and anticipate, that a new beginning is here. I recall other times when I didn't realize with such clarity. The last time I carried my little girl to bed. She's now almost as big as me. The last time I walked my beloved Belle in her favorite woods. The last time I did my mom's hair for her or heard her voice on the phone. Lasts are not lasts until they are so. I pray this last day of 2018 finds you safe and sound, enjoying what you hold most dear, and in the company of those who love you best. Happy New Year!


	4. Chapter 4

Let's Be Enemies

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: First and foremost, thank you so much for the kind reviews and comments and the private messages. To answer some questions, I promise Jack and Mac will never be at odds, at least not in one of my stories, not for long anyway. I appreciate so many asking about episode tags and if I plan to do any. The problem is, I haven't watched episodes-except for this past Fridays, which was amazing by the way, and a couple at the beginning of the season- since I found out that George Eades is leaving. I know that some feel it is traitorous to the show not to watch after Jack is gone, but for me…the show _is_ Mac and Jack. I so respect your opinion and hope you can understand mine. I will continue to write and may even attempt a tag, but it may depend on how Jack leaves. I believe he is on one or two more episodes, possibly Ep 3:13 and 3:14. Let's hope his exit it is handled in a way that is fitting of the Jack we love. He is not, I don't believe, in tonight's episode. So, I hope this chapter will help those, like me, who are missing our guy. As always, thanks to Mary who made this better. PS...I hope I didn't overdo it in the Jack and Mac parts. I think I might be overcompensating a bit, and Mary is no help at all when it comes to reeling in the hurt/comfort. In fact, she encourages my madness.

RcJ

Jack kept his hand hovering just above his weapon as James pounded on the door once more. He could sense Mac and Bozer just behind him, where he'd motioned for them to stay. His muscles were tensed, the throbbing in his arm had long since been mentally shoved to the background. There was a bark from the other side, scratching against the wood. The yip sounded once more then a man's muffled voice could be heard admonishing the dog to be quiet, to get back along with, "Waz zum Teufel", which Jack was sure translated to something like 'What the hell?' or maybe 'What the devil?'.

"Who's there?" The words were German still, but Jack easily translated this time, his brain having shifted gears. He wasn't fluent in anything but Texan, but he knew enough of several languages to blend in, to survive. Nowhere near as skilled as his partner or Oversight in his ability to converse, he could get by with the basics.

James responded in English, knowing Accola purportedly spoke not only their native tongue but French and several dialects from Afghanistan.

"Dr. Accola, we need your help. My son is sick." James glanced at Jack, leaning closer to the wooden door. He raised a brow at the sudden silence. The whipping wind and pelting snow was wearing Jack's patience thin, as was the sound of Mac's harsh breathing behind him along with the intermixed, swallowed groans the kid was trying to hide. Jack gritted his teeth. He drew his gun, planning to get them inside one way or the other. James held up a hand, waving for him to put the weapon away, a disapproving look on his face. He seemed to glean Jack's intentions of kicking in the door. "Amelia told us you were here," James called over the roar of the storm, the pleading note in his voice not matching the expression on his face. "Please. We need your help."

After a moment Jack heard the sound of a bolt lock being slid away and the heavy door opened just a crack. Light spilled out into dark gray morning, reflecting off the snow which had been wind swept under the awning they were standing. Jack caught the scent of wood smoke, pine and the smell of frying bacon through the small partition. The scent of tobacco and whiskey also wafted out. It was almost as if he'd gotten a whiff from his grandparents' kitchen if Beth's kitchen had been settled in the back of an old English pub. Jack's stomach rumbled in kind. Despite his knowing better it almost felt inviting, the promise of a warm stove, a place away from the cold and the snow. He felt Mac's hand on his arm and when he turned to look at his partner the kid raised a brow at the gun, shaking his head slightly.

Jack sighed and put it back in its holster, the cold nipping at his side when he lifted his jacket. He sent another brief glance Mac's direction, not liking the paleness of his partner's skin. Jack exhaled slowly to focus back at the door, to face the man who was at least responsible for a small part of his nightmares. He couldn't see Accola but a wiry nose appeared near the bottom of the door, twitching. A furry white and brown head poked out. The dog barked a greeting.

"Amelia sent you out here?" The voice was skeptical, the English impeccable if not a bit slurred. The years stateside had obviously polished and perfected Accola's accent but he'd apparently had a belt of something besides coffee with his breakfast or maybe he was still drunk from the night before.

"In this?" The door opened just a bit more, and the doctor's incredulous face now appeared. Bloodshot but alert eyes roamed over them suspiciously. Accola looked older than the latest pictures Riley had shown them, and despite his longish white hair that stuck up in wild patches along his head and the hearty silver beard the familiarity Bozer had pointed out to Santa was poorly translated in this real-life in person version. He looked much more like the grim Schmultzi. Lean and wafish like a lone wolf who'd spent the winter without his pack to help him hunt. A yellowed t-shirt clung to his thin chest, and flannels barely hung from his hips beneath the worn and slightly tattered house coat he had presumably thrown on, if its rumpled state was any evidence.

"It's harrowing out here." James glanced to the sky with a sigh, easily covering any surprise he might have had at their host's sickly appearance while simultaneously acknowledging the terrible conditions they'd taken on. "She told us where you were, off on holiday, and suggested we visit the pharmacy."

"You should have taken her sensible suggestion." Accola now opened the door further, his rheumy eyes sweeping over the rest of their motley crew. His body still barred entrance, just a bit of warm light making it past him. The little dog behind him bounded out with a bark, dancing around Jack's feet with unabashed excitement despite nearly being buried in mounds that had billowed against the cabin front, tail wagging. Despite himself Jack felt a grin twitch at the little terrier's antics, uncaring about the snow quickly sticking to its wiry hair and nearly burying it as it pawed at Jack's leg to be picked up.

"Kepler, get down now." Accola frowned at Jack, who'd bent and scooped the pup up. It now licked his face, obviously much more delighted about the unexpected company than his owner.

"As in Johannes Kepler?" Mac spoke from Jack's side, his hand coming up to ruffle the dog's fur. The doctor's eyes showed a bit more life as he now considered the younger man, though the frown remained. "The astronomer?" Jack's partner queried further and Jack recognized the kid's tactic.

"Yes." Accola continued to stare at Mac, as he pulled his house coat closer around him, rubbed a hand over his bearded face. "You know Johannes Kepler's work?"

"He was one of the chief founders of modern astronomy." Mac's voice caught slightly and Jack noticed he dropped the hand he'd used to pet Kepler once more to his side. He wrestled a smile from the grimace. "As a novice stargazer, I'm a fan."

"My son is modest." James jumped on the opening. He flashed a proud smile in Mac's direction, playing the doting dad just perfectly. Jack had to bite the inside of his jaw. His attention divided between Accola and his deteriorating partner. "He's a physics major at MIT. About to finish up his last semester."

"An academic? You don't say." Accola perked up further at the idea, and Jack wasn't sure if the old man smiled or winced. His eyes landed once more on Mac. "You should be smarter than to come out in this, boy."

"I'm afraid that was my idea." James brought a hand to his chest, feigning apology. "I didn't check the weather before we left." He looked to Jack, ducking his head, a worried frown on his forehead. "I wasn't aware the storm would set in so quickly, but my brother, the pilot, did try and warn me. My only thoughts were for my son."

Accola followed James's gaze to Jack, who worked to dampen his surprise at the sudden cover. He still held the little dog in his arms and gently placed him back on the ground where the snow wasn't so high to give himself a moment. When he stood once more he inclined his head, a humorless smile on his face. "Older brothers always think they know best, even on subjects where someone else clearly has the most experience." Like concerning what's best for their sons, Jack thought, but clenched his fists to keep from saying more. He felt Mac and Bozer shift behind him again. From the corner of his eye Jack saw Mac hunching over slightly, face tight with pain. Bozer rested a comforting hand on his arm, while giving the former Delta operator a worried frown.

After a moment, Accola nodded, his gaze losing a bit of its suspicion. "Family can be difficult."

"You're telling me." Bozer chimed in, stepping around Jack his arms wrapped around himself. He gestured to himself, then James. "Try being adopted. Could we come in? Please. My brother really isn't feeling well." Jack wasn't sure if the teeth chattering was a subtle touch or if his teammate was just that cold but Accola finally seemed convinced of their harmlessness status as a ragtag vactioning family from the US and stepped aside with a sigh to gesture them in.

"Of course." He called Kepler and once everyone was inside the old man bolted the door behind them. The sudden silence was almost overwhelming as was the blessed warmth after being in the roar of the icy wind. Accola pulled his house coat tighter around him, shaking his head. "Today is not a day to be enjoying our mountains I'm afraid." He moved his gaze to the lone window with a wooden desk beneath it. The mullioned glass appeared to look out into a scape of pure white as the storm lashed it with sheets of snow. "I take it that is why you have come to Albinen?" He asked, wariness still present in his tone, as if he was sure he was missing something and worried at what he'd really just invited in his home. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "A vacation?"

"Yes," James answered vaguely. He pulled his cap from his head, showering the hardwood floor with snow. He ran a hand over his damp hair, before gesturing to Mac. "We were enjoying your village immensely then Angus woke up ill this morning. I'm afraid it's put a damper on the holidays and now I've drug us out in this."

"Angus?" Accola motioned a hand to the coat rack by the door in a silent offering for them to remove their jackets even as he turned to pick up a mug from a small table beside him. Jack caught the way his hand shook. "That's an unusual name."

"My friends call me Mac," Mac said as Jack reached out to help his partner remove his jacket. As he did so, Jack glanced around the small cabin lit by the large stone fireplace and a few oil lamps. It looked to be two rooms, with a loft sleeping space above the stone hearth. It was cluttered but cozy. There were even two stockings hung on the mantle.

The furniture was sparse, a well-worn sofa with a patched quilt tossed over the back, two oversized chairs with a small kitchen area off to the right. Woven rugs dotted the floor along with dog toys and a well-chewed baseball. Overstuffed book cases lined the walls, their contents having spilled onto every surrounding surface so that it gave the place a look of a hoarder's library. Kepler trotted to towards the kitchen, doing a few circles before curling on the large cushion nestled near the pot belly stove where an iron skillet and a half-full bottle of whiskey sat. Jack's brows drew together slightly. It seemed he hadn't been wrong about the early morning Irish coffee.

"I'm Jim MacGyver, and this is Wilt." James clasped a hand on Bozer's shoulder as he jerked his chin towards Jack. "He's Jack."

"The pilot." Accola took a long drink from whatever was in the mug, his blue eyes once more locking with Jack's gaze. Jack suspected the man's scrutiny was instinctual, more than a typical distrust of strangers showing up in a snow storm in the middle of nowhere. "Did you learn to fly in the military, young man?"

Jack laughed at being referred to as young as he returned the doctor's gaze. "My father was a stick jockey," he kept his voice neutral, offered his best good old boy smile, "taught me everything I know."

"You look like a marine." Accola continued to consider Jack's as he took another drink of his coffee. Jack wasn't sure if the old man was drunk enough to buy the story they were feeding him even though what he'd just said was the absolute truth. Jack Dalton had learned all he needed to know about flying and so much more from his father. Like how a man who drank before noon was usually trying to erase the nightmares that had robbed him of his sleep the night before.

He didn't blink. "I'm no marine, Doctor."

"Although he did love to play G.I. Joe when we were kids," James said with a laugh obviously hoping to lighten the mood.

"Of course I had to drag Jimmy away from his nerdy science kit." Jack added his own touch of humor as he slipped his arms from his jacket, handing both his and Mac's coats to Bozer who was closer to the coat rack. He sent a fleeting look to his partner who had seemed to go even paler before focusing back on the man before him. "In the original comics G.I. Joe was a Special tactical unit called Delta commissioned by the Army, not the Marines." It seemed a casual comment on topic, but from the way Oversight cleared his throat, he apparently didn't agree.

"Could I have some water?" Mac asked suddenly, effectively changing the subject and cutting off any further questions on Accola's part. He gave a slight cough before gesturing to the kitchen. "Perhaps some hot tea?"

"Forgive my manners." Accola actually looked flustered, embarrassed even as his ruddy face took on more color. "I'm not used to entertaining, at least not here, in my woods. You've not caught me at my best, I'm afraid."

"We should be the ones apologizing," James replied, no longer glowering at Jack. "We understood you were on sabbatical for the holidays but came anyway. It seems you're the only doctor in the area."

"Outside of the city of Bern, yes. There are a few others scattered here and there, but with winter upon us they have been lured to warmer destinations for the holiday like migrant snowbirds." Accola moved towards the kitchen, his walk a little unsteady. He glanced at them over his shoulder as he filled a kettle with water from a jug and settled it on top of the stove. The old man took a treat from a jar and tossed it to Kepler while he was there. "Please have a seat, make yourselves comfortable."

James and Bozer claimed the two chairs. Jack followed Mac to the sofa, where the kid gingerly lowered himself onto the worn leather. A look of pain, followed by immense relief to finally be sitting washed over his face. "You okay, bud?" Jack asked quietly as he perched on the arm beside him. The kid did not look good, his face red from more than just the cold. Jack could practically feel the warmth radiating off the younger man. It made his own stomach clench.

Mac didn't reply, nodding instead.

"There is a homeopath at the spa," Accola continued, returning to them baring a cup of water for Mac. He held it out with both hands to keep it steady. "Have this until the tea is ready."

Jack reached out to take the glass when Mac hesitated moving. He fought the urge not to taste it himself just to make sure it wasn't poisoned. The doctor appeared harmless now, but Jack easily recalled the sharp eyes, the ones which had looked at him with little compassion when he'd sat beside his fallen men. Mac being the one who now needed this man's help brought forth a surge of anger and protectiveness that had him quaking just a bit as he finally handed off the cup to the kid.

Accola turned towards the fire seemingly unfazed by Jack's scrutiny. He added another piece of wood to the waning flames before he joined them, claiming the footstool in front of the sofa, coffee mug in one hand. "Silvan, that's the naturalist's name, has a nursing degree but is so enlightened now he believes aura cleansing, organic oils and acupuncture are the cure for everything." His blue gaze searched Mac's face. It made Jack's skin crawl. "I take it what ails you, young stargazer, might not be alieved by Reiki and some Cannabis?"

"I think I'd prefer a more traditional approach where my son is concerned." James spoke up before Mac could. Jack cut his gaze to Oversight, his hackles rising at the fact that as far as he was concerned the man had never shown much concern when Mac was hurt or sick. "I'd like any hands lain on him to belong to someone with an MD after his name."

"Natural remedies and alternative medicines have come a long way in unleashing the body's ability to heal itself," Mac countered wearily, leaning back slightly with a suppressed groan as the doctor rested his forearms on his knees, studying him closer.

"So the MIT physicist doesn't believe all these new treatments are cleverly marketed, dangerous quackery?" Accola raised a brow, something close to amusement crossing his face. He took another drink from his coffee. "Is science not your god?"

"It's more about the fact that Mac doesn't like doctors. Period," Bozer interjected not able to see the roll of eyes that Mac gave at his unwelcomed observation. "If someone told him he could stop a massive hemorrhage by drinking a green smoothie and getting some fresh air, he'd be chopping veggies and strapping on his Nikes instead of opting for any stitches."

"Wilt's not wrong," Jack joined in, smirking as his best friend now turned his annoyed gaze to him. He sent a side glance to the doctor. "But those of us who've been around the block a time or two know that unfortunately a real physician is the only thing that stands between a man bleeding out in the dirt."

"Your nephew doesn't seem to have any life threatening injuries." Accola narrowed his eyes at Jack, then returned his studious gaze to Mac. He ran a hand through his messy white hair. "The ski lodge has several men trained in triage for search and rescue purposes. I'm surprised Amelia didn't mention them to you. They are more than adequate in a pinch."

"I told her I mostly had a stomach ache." Mac confessed, a hand coming across his abdomen and he swallowed thickly. Jack could see the kid's façade of 'I'm fine' slowly giving way to the harsh reality of how he was truly feeling. He gave a sheepish smile. "She suggested I might eat more before drinking."

The doctor snorted, slapping a hand on his knee. "I have garnered the same suggestion from that woman a time or two, but as one admittedly familiar with hangovers, I don't remember them giving me a fever." Accola reached out and set his coffee down before placing the back of his hand against Mac's cheek. Jack gripped the edge of the couch when he caught the soured scent of whiskey and coffee on the old man's breath and he wanted to shove the old drunk out of the kid's space. Logically he knew that they needed Accola, that Mac needed help, but Jack couldn't stop flashing back to the doctor who'd refused his men treatment.

"Especially one as high as I wager yours is. How long have you had it?"

"A while," Mac hedged, not meeting anyone's eyes. "Maybe five or six hours, that I noticed anyway."

"How has your appetite been?"

"I've not really been hungry, at all." Mac shifted slightly, his breathing catching, obviously not comfortable with all the attention.

"For him, that's unusual," Bozer chimed in once again, worried eyes going from Mac to the doctor before meeting Jack's. "His metabolism is as high as his IQ. He out eats me and Jack most days."

"Unless he's buried in a project," Jack added, garnering another round of ice blue daggers from his best friend. "Then we have to remind him to breathe."

Accola nodded as if he not only understood such dedication but admired it. "And have you been nauseated?"

Here Mac hesitated. He glanced at Jack. "I've been sick a few times. That started about twenty four hours ago."

The tea pot began a low whistle and the doctor nodded to Jack. "Could you get that for me? The tea and honey are above the stove." Jack opened his mouth to protest, but Accola was already refocused, gesturing to Bozer this time. "Young man, Wilt, was it? Could you get my bag? It's on my desk."

Bozer was more obedient than Jack, hopping to the task, as Jack had yet made a move to leave his partner's side. The tea whistle grew louder. Kepler whined, apparently not a fan of the high-pitched noise.

"Could you lie back and lift your shirt so I can have a look?" Accola had refocused his attention on the patient, was now waving to the length of the sofa for Mac to stretch out.

Mac's blue gaze went straight to Jack, deer in the headlights taking on new meaning as fear and distrust raced through the blonde's eyes. Jack hesitated for only a second. It was long enough for Oversight to intervene.

"Angus, do as the doctor says. The sooner we can get you straightened out, the sooner we can be on our way, son." There was a clear edge of impatience, and it rankled Jack further. James's order was clear. They had a mission to fulfill and Mac needed to be on board. One-hundred percent. His sickness was no reason to abandon the mission altogether, though Jack had a completely different view on that than Oversight apparently.

Jack held the kid's gaze for a second longer. Angus MacGyver was one of the strongest, bravest men Jack had the privilege to know. But he had his vulnerabilities, just like any man. Mac's was feeling helpless, out of control-at the mercy of someone else. Bozer was right about the kid not liking doctors, but Jack understood the true distaste sprung from long-buried trauma and though he often joined in giving his partner hell about it to some extent, he also made it a point to let Mac know he was in his corner. That he had his back. Always.

Jack hoped he conveyed what he was feeling. It's okay. I'm here. Nothing is going to happen. You're safe. It was the same mantra he silently repeated on almost every mission since day one. Even if for months he'd secretly resented being saddled with the cocky bomb nerd at the end of his tour. The vow took on new meaning as he grew to like the young soldier, respect him even, and now that he _loved_ him like a brother, like a son…Those promises were sacred and heartfelt in a way that made it nearly impossible for Jack to get his legs under him, to obey his command to move. The sooner he got the damn tea, the sooner he could be back.

The slightest inclination of Mac's head was all the prompt Jack needed, the silent acknowledgement that Jack had transmitted his intentions as sure as if he'd declared them out loud was the gunshot at the beginning of a race. He was halfway across the room before he even heard Mac shifting on the couch, reclining against the noisy leather.

"Where exactly is this pain you mentioned?" Accola had moved closer to the couch, taking a knee next to Mac.

"It started out sort of in the center." Mac drew his legs higher, reluctantly shifting his arm away from his side.

"Has it moved?"

Jack concentrated on Mac's voice even as he took the kettle from the top of the stove and moved it to the small counter. Kepler watched him with interest, pleading eyes tracking his every move. Jack tossed the small pup another cookie before he opened the cabinet door.

"I had some questionable Chinese and thought it was just some indigestion, maybe even food poisoning." Mac's voice was halting, whatever Accola was doing hurt his partner.

"Was it a sharp or dull pain?"

"Dull in the beginning."

"Constant or intermittent."

"Intermittent at first, but pretty much all the time now."

Jack caught Bozer's return out of the corner of his eye as he pulled a tea bag from yellow canister and quickly searched for the honey. The jar was all the way in the back and he had to stand on his tiptoes to reach it.

"And it's sharp, like a knife?"

"Yeah," Mac's breath caught once more and Jack glanced over his shoulder to see that Accola was leaned over the kid, his hand resting on Mac's left side.

"Does this hurt?" Accola's voice had lost the world-weary-tone, the doctor side of him seemingly taking over.

Jack unscrewed the jar, cursing the honey as it slowly dripped into the hot liquid. He wasn't sure why the urgency to return to Mac was so dire. It wasn't like Accola had any reason to hurt him. Oversight had said it again and again on the flight. They weren't there to secure a killer, but an instrument of peace. A end to a means, in which a son would be returned to his father. Only Jack remembered other sons. Ones who were returned to their families in boxes. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to take a couple of slow even breaths.

"Not really?" Mac answered, hesitantly. "It's a little sore, but that could be from the workout I did the other day."

"He's been practicing his planks," Bozer's voice rumbled and Jack realized he was trying to distract his roommate. "My girlfriend can kick both our butts in plank position. Which is why he had the questionable Chinese in the first place."

"A woman who knows her mind is always a dangerous force to be reckoned with." Accola said conversationally. "And here?" He queried again.

"Some, but I feel it more on my right." Mac's hiss of pain had Jack setting the damn honey aside. He plunged his finger in the hot liquid, stirring it heedless of the burn to his skin and what anyone would think of his manners. He'd just made it across the room and back to the couch in time to see that Accola's hands had now moved to Mac's right side, fingers palpating different areas of his abdomen.

Surprisingly the kid hadn't much more than flinched when the man pressed in and Jack started to release the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as the boy looked up at him. But then Accola lifted his hands away and Mac choked back a scream.

It was the sound made by an animal in pain. One that had been suddenly hurt. Jack had heard a deer make such a cry once, the one and only time he'd gone hunting with some of his friends from high school, and he'd heard soldiers give that sound when they'd been surprised by the enemy… gut shot, dismembered, set on fire.

"Mac." Jack would have dropped the tea cup, but Bozer was there. He shoved it at his teammate, hearing the other man hiss as the hot water sloshed on his hands. Jack was set solely on putting himself between Mac and the source of this surprise attack.

"Ja...ck." Mac managed his name, having instantly curled on his side, both arms protectively locked over his stomach, knees drawn up high. His face was contorted in pain, his eyes squeezed shut as he panted through the onslaught, an atypical string of four letter words slipping out.

"Hey," Jack dropped to his knees, one hand on his partner's shoulder, the other resting against his head. "Easy, bud. You're okay. I got you." Jack ran his hand through the kid's damp blond hair. He could feel the heat of the fever he hadn't realized was quite so high.

"Jack?" Bozer crouched next to him, having gotten rid of the cup of tea somewhere, open concern on his face. His voice wasn't laced with pain like Mac's but it also demanded Jack do something. That he fix what was happening as if it was the older agent's sole purpose to prevent scenarios just like this one.

"You with me, kid?" Jack queried, trying to keep his voice casual, calm.

As Mac's breath evened out, his body relaxed some. He blinked up at Jack, eyes bright with fever. "Guess it's not the flu."

It wasn't an accusation, but to Jack it sounded like failure. He swung his gaze over his shoulder to Accola. "What the hell was that, old man?"

"That was McBurney's point, better known as rebound tenderness." The doctor's face remained neutral, unaffected in the face of Jack's anger and Mac's pain. Although he finally looked sober, eyes sharp. A frown appeared on his face.

"Tenderness my ass," Jack growled his gaze going back to Mac, a hand resting on Mac's shoulder. "He's hurting."

"That's because his appendix is inflamed." Accola looked to James, face grim now. "Your son is a sick young man."

"Mac has appendicitis?" Bozer croaked, looking from Mac's still curled form to Accola. He did not manage the calm resolve that Jack had and Mac shifted beneath Jack's touch in response.

"Boze, it's okay. Don't freak out."

"A progressed case, I'm afraid." The doctor nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're sure?" For the first time it sounded like James's dropped his guard, as if he'd been dumbstruck by the diagnosis and lost his tight fisted grip on the illusion he was projecting. Jack was always moved by these 'Great Oz' moments as he'd come to see them. James MacGyver revealed to be just as vulnerable and human as the rest of them. Sometimes he was moved to show compassion, to reconsider his beliefs about Oversight, but at others he was merely moved to fury. Like now.

"He's a doctor James, a renowned surgeon," Jack growled, his hand hovering to keep Mac still, though he knew the kid wanted to right himself, to ease the mounting tension that was present now. Even the pup, Kepler, had come over, his paws on the couch so he could stare worriedly at the patient. "More than that. An award winning, groundbreaker in his field. Is that not what you called him?"

And like Oz, who made his share of misteps, Jack was at times his own worst enemy. He'd let his anger and worry trip him up, fall out of the act, just like James. Reveal who he really was. A man terrified for his brother. An agent protecting his partner. A pseudo-parent terrified for their very real child. A wolf in sheep's clothing. The slip was only for a second, but his bumble was more telling than James, who only showed fear. Jack had showed he had knowledge and knowledge was power.

"Did Amelia tell you that?" Accola stood on shaky legs, his hand gripping his housecoat once more. His gaze volleyed from James to Jack and then lastly to Mac, who with Jack's help was slowly sitting up. "But of course she didn't. Who are you people? What are really doing here?"

"My son is sick. You said that yourself." James sighed deeply. "We need your help."

"That I believe." Dr. Accola inclined his head to Mac. "I'm just no longer sure that my medical expertise is what brought you to my door."

"No, that was an unexpected inconvenience."

Jack glared at Oversight. Had the man actually referred to his son as an inconvenience?

"More like a convenient cover. No?" Accola rubbed a hand over his mouth. "I assume you're with the government? American agents? Yes?" His blue eyes moved back to Jack, then to Mac who was upright but leaning against his partner. "You are military. _Both_ of you."

"I did go to MIT," Mac said hoarsely. "I studied chemistry and physics."

"But you're true classroom was the battlefield. " Accola shook his head. "I'm an old drunk, half-blind, but even I can smell the blood on your hands."

"Shut up." Jack stood up, stepping toe to toe with the old doctor. "Unless you want to add hypocrite to your description of yourself."

"I can say with good conscience that I spent my time in the war saving lives. You can say the same?"

"No." Jack clenched his jaw, jerked a thumb at Mac. "But he did. His bravery as an EOD saved countless lives, unlike a coward who hid behind his high handed principles."

"And what did you hide behind, boy?" Accola jabbed a finger at Jack, his own fascade as harmless old man giving way to vitriol and indignant rage that made him look a bit like a deranged mall Santa who'd reached his limits with wailing kids and demanding parents. "An armored vehicle? The sights of a missile launcher or perhaps something more personal like the scope of a sniper's rifle. I saw many of your kind. In fact, is it possible you and I have met?"

"Don't you mean you turned a blind eye to many of _my_ kind." Jack seethed, refusing to acknowledge their past. He doubted Accola truly recognized him. To men like the pious doctor soldiers all looked the same.

"That's enough," James voice was sharp and commanding once more. All pretenses and playacting dropped. "Stand down, Dalton. Now."

He took a step back, only because Mac had said his name as well. _Jack_. It was quiet, pain-laced and weak, but it still held so much more sway than Oversight's barked order.

"Dr. Accola we haven't been completely honest with you, but we have little time for explanations. Even if my son's diagnosis wasn't grim, we have a timeline."

"Is he even your son?" Accola glowered at James. "There is no need to keep the ridiculous charade going."

Jack nearly seconded the old man's suggestion but there was Mac to consider. He had begun to consider James MacGyver just that, a ridiculous charade, a sham of a father. But Mac was already in pain. Jack would not add insult to injury, knowing that his kid was far more susceptible to emotional wounding than any physical danger.

"Angus _is_ my son and he's sick. That was not part of my plan and although we've been sent here on a mission to ask you for your help, I'm now asking for it not as someone merely under orders but as a worried parent as well. Surely, you of all people can understand that- the lengths a father will go for his child. Your son was close to the same age as Angus, was he not?"

"So you'd use my own dead son against me?" Accola asked, his blue eyes hardening. "Nothing is sacred to you diplomats."

Jack shared a glance with Mac. Once more they had been left out of the loop. Jack should have been used to Oversight having an ace up his sleeve, or was it another card all together. The joke always seemed to be on them.

"I'm only pointing out that you lost a child. It's unnatural. You understand there is no worse pain. As a father, I understand that potential as well. That's why I agreed to come on this mission in the first place." James almost sounded genuine. "Angus isn't the only young man in jeopardy. There is one being held in Afghanistan by people who do not have his best interests at heart. He's in danger of losing his freedom, maybe even his life and we believe you may be our one hope in saving him."

Accola was quiet for a long moment and when he did speak it was to Jack, not James. "If I were you, I'd be much more concerned about your own boy than the American Senator's son."

RcJ

"You know about the reporter?" Mac asked, hunching over a little more as his side gave another sharp twinge. He felt Jack tense at the unwelcome revelation or maybe the older man was reacting to Mac's pain. Jack was helpless to do anything about either at this point.

Accola sat once more on the ottoman, looking depleted and wrung out, running a slightly shaking hand through his white hair. If he resembled Santa at all now, Mac imagined it was after the jolly old elf's physics defying feat of racing around the world at the speed of light to deliver gifts to all the boys and girls. He'd never considered the toll that would take on a body. Perhaps old Mr. Clause would also be drunk and disastrous after a year of stressful preparations and working under such pressure. Mac shook his head slightly, it was getting harder to keep his head in the game.

"I may be living in the outskirts of civilization, but I am not under a rock. Bad news still finds me. Even out here it seems." His eyes moved to James, narrowing once more. "Bad people as well."

"We're not the bad guys," Bozer disagreed. He was hovering near the sofa, on the other side of Jack, frowning at Accola. "We're the ones trying to save a life. We have the white hats."

"You think the others do not say the same thing?" Accola's tone remained tired, resigned. He ran a hand over his unkempt beard. "There are always two sides to the story, sometimes many more. The truth hinges on an octagon of possibilities." He looked at Mac. "Collateral damage abounds."

"Spoken like a man who knows how to play all those sides for whatever suits him," Jack spoke, his voice thrumming with energy and anger, that had seemed to increase in direct correlation with Accola's waning defiance as if the man's acquiescence only fired the former Delta's rebuke. Predators became frenzied when pray was wounded. Mac's partner was a wolf with the scent of a bloodied deer, an Alpha protecting its pack. "We all know you were as bendy as a limp noodle when it came to what was right, Accola. If there was collateral damage you sure as hell helped cause it. If you think my partner will become one more victim to your 'hand's off' approach. You're very wrong." The last words were spoken between clenched teeth, Jack's gaze hard and serious.

"Once again, I don't think you're helping matters, Jack," Bozer ground out, the fingers of his hand that still steadied Mac digging into his arm. Mac looked up at him, catching the flash of fear in his roommate's dark gaze although he had a smile plastered on his face. Bozer still thought Accola could be convinced by niceties to come along with them. Jack had been right when he said their teammate was still innocent.

"Our government reached out to you already?" Mac asked, and heard Jack sigh. His partner seemingly thought that was the least pressing of their problems but focusing on the job helped Mac keep his own fear at bay. He needed for things to make sense, even in his fever fogged brain. He rubbed a hand over his eyes when his vision blurred, exhaustion was mixing with the now constant pain. Mac gritted his teeth when his legs refused to keep him upright any longer and he heavily sat back down on the couch with a swallowed groan. There would have been a dialogue. Of course, the means of least resistance would have been employed in the delicate nature of the political scope. Phoenix was a last resort, not an emissary of diplomacy as they'd been led to believe. Jack had been right when he'd referred to this as more of a high valued target extraction, a job more fitting of SOF than them. Only to bring in special operations was to risk a scandal, something no one in their government obviously wanted. Maybe Mac's age and his time at MIT had more to do with their being in Albinen than did their track record in the field.

"They extended an invitation to join in a dialogue with the Afghanistan regime. I refused." He waved a hand to encompass them. "So they have sent a delegation to collect an old man. Chosen to use force. I'm not sure if I should be insulted or buoyed that the convoy contains only two soldiers."

"You'll accompany us back to town and we'll discuss our next steps there." James spoke coolly, his voice leaving no room for arguing.

"He'll take care of Mac first," Jack interrupted. He turned to face Oversight. " _That_ is now our priority mission. He can barely stand up. You really think he needs to go back into that." Jack gestured to the window where the wind picked up fervor as if on Jack's cue. Kepler jumped up to join Mac on the couch. Mac curled his fingers around the little dog's fur, thoughts of Archimedes flooding his mind as he waited for Oversight's response. Whatever his father might have countered was lost to him as Accola spoke first.

"There is nothing I can do for the boy, here."

Mac lifted his gaze to the doctor. The old man actually looking apologetic. "If you had sought my treatment in the village. I would have given you antibiotics and advised you be taken to the hospital in Bern immediately. Surgery, in my opinion, is needed." He looked up at Jack. "The only way to take care of him at this point."

"But we have some time, right?" Mac asked, having already considered the possibility that he had appendicitis. Sometimes the malady didn't even require surgery. It could be a passing flare up and if it did require a drastic intervention, there was often time before the patient was in jeopardy. Sure he felt horrible, but that didn't mean he was at risk, not like with an internal injury or gunshot wound. The annoying realist's voice in Mac's brain, the one that always sounded a lot like his grandpa, Harry, whispered that this was probably wishful thinking. "We can get back to Albinen and then to Bern."

"Mac…" Jack started.

Mac raised a hand, not daring to chance a look at his partner. He knew Jack's priorities, loved him for that but they were still on a mission and there was another innocent life to consider as well. He kept staring at Accola. "Doctor?"

"It's possible, but it is also just as likely your appendix will rupture. That will complicate matters greatly. An appendix perforation allows infectious waste into the abdominal cavity causing peritonitis, which could be fatal if not treated promptly."

"Waiting around here won't stop that from happening though?" Mac once more didn't look at his best friend. He felt Bozer step closer to him. Mac suppressed a shiver.

"No." Accola shook his head. "At this point I can't predict when that might occur but considering your symptomology and the timeline you've given me, it's surprising that hasn't happened already."

"I should go get the chopper, bring it here." Jack looked from the door to the window, then to Mac, his body quaking with the need to do something, to act in a way that would stop the disaster Accola had just predicted. When it came to Mac, Jack was willing to hold back any wave, to lift his fists against a Tsunami.

"And land where, Dalton?" Oversight demanded, his temper showing for the first time as his logic warred with Jack's plan that had absolutely nothing to do with the pragmatic. They were opposite ends of the spectrum in so many ways, Mac realized. From the way they saw the world to the way they saw Mac.

"On the fucking rooftop if need be," Jack responded instantly, voice rising also. Keplar curled closer to Mac as the former Delta returned his gaze to Mac, unfamiliar desperation raging like the storm outside the cabin. "I'll take us all to Zurich. Then the Phoenix jet can get Accola to Afghanistan."

He wanted Mac to concede to agree to stay put and wait, but as much as Mac was Jack's brother, his boy, he was undeniably his father's son. A crisis was no reason to abandon logic, in fact, such times demanded it be present. In some ways he and Jack were Yin and Yang as well.

"Landing on the side of this mountain would be risky even in good weather, Jack." Mac swallowed hard, his voice cracking. He held back a sudden need to cough, pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. "What good is you crashing the bird going to do anybody?" Mac rushed on before Jack could answer, meeting his best friend's gaze. "I can make it back to the village. Flying from there will be a big enough challenge." He moved Kepler from his lap and stood to prove his point. He even managed to stand mostly straight though the pain in his side nearly stole his breath. Honestly, Mac wasn't sure he could manage what he claimed, but he also realized he didn't have much choice.

"I won't be accompanying you," Accola stated, picking up his dog and holding Kepler to his chest. "We'll be staying here."

"Like hell you will." Jack jabbed a finger at the old man. "You're coming with, and your little dog, too. Even if I have to carry you myself."

"Dalton's right, Doctor," James confirmed, voice hard. "Wilt, please accompany our travelling companion as he gets dressed and gathers whatever he might need. He'll be joining us for the return trip to the village."

Mac watched Accola's face for a sign he would balk or maybe even fight them as the realization he was- in theory at least- being kidnapped. Instead he seemed resigned to his fate, placing Kepler back on the floor before motioning to the set of stairs that would take them to the loft space above.

"Alrighty then." Bozer flashed Mac an uncertain glance before following the old man to his room. "Now that we know you're coming along," Bozer looked at Accola, "Is it possible you might have a sleigh stashed around here? Some flying reindeer?"

"I believe you've mistaken me for someone else." Mac heard the doctor murmur solemnly as they moved away. He wondered if that might not be true on many levels. Santa he was not, but perhaps Reuben Accola wasn't so much the evil Schmulzli either. Maybe the doctor was just a man who wanted to be left alone. One who'd tried to do what he believed was right, but had ended up causing more harm than he intended by acting on his version of the truth. Mac swayed slightly, glancing at his father, knowing all too well that the best of intentions sometimes inflicted unexpected, unforgivable collateral damage.

To be continued…


	5. Chapter 5

RcJ

Let's Be Enemies

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Happy Friday! Another round of me trying to insert more Jack and Mac into our lives when the powers that be are determined to deprive us. lol Thanks to all who have commented and reviewed on this story. I hope it is helping just a bit. Thanks to Mary for helping me pull this off, and if it is over the top, you can blame us both. It's extra long! Enjoy! As a challenge...it looks like tonight's episode coming up would have been amazing with Jack along for survival skills training, maybe there is one or more writers out there that would take it upon themselves to make this happen!

RcJ

Jack ended up carrying someone but it wasn't Accola. It was Mac.

His stubborn partner was determined to make the trek through the storm without assistance. The trees blocked some of the wind, but the temperature had dropped as the heavy snowfall rose. Even though it was getting close to midday, the sky was dark and foreboding, making it seem more like dusk, the blowing snow giving the illusion they were struggling to shed a white cocoon. Jack, who'd taken point, could barely see in front of him, as he followed the compass on his watch, keeping them on the right path but still he sensed when the man who'd been on his heels fell further behind.

Jack turned just in time to see Mac stumble, barely avoid going to his knees in the snow. The kid was bent over when Jack reached him, breathing hard but in a way that told Jack it was painful and his partner was trying to control it.

He leaned close to be heard over the howl of the miserable wind, that was biting at his exposed neck and face. "Mac?"

Mac coughed, groaning when he did. Jack winced. He didn't look up, not even when Jack reached out and placed a gloved hand at the back of his neck."How you doing there, kiddo?"

Mac shook his head, his eyes closed. "Not good."

The fact the kid didn't try and pull off an 'I'm fine, Jack' was troubling enough but when he reached out and gripped the folds of Jack's coat, actually leaning forward to press his face into the other man's chest with another suppressed groan, the former Delta felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. "It hurts so fucking much."

Jack squeezed his eyes shut at the breathless admission, pulling the kid a little closer to try and shield him from the wind. The bitter taste of helplessness had him swallowing hard. "I know, bud. I know, but you've got to hang in there. Okay?" It was a piss poor excuse for any kind of help. Jack wanted to make it right, to stop whatever was hurting the kid instantly. He'd have traded places if that were possible. But he was fucking useless.

"The Iliopsoas muscle is pressing against his inflamed appendix with each step."

Accola's voice was nearly at shouting level and Jack jumped at the unwelcomed intrusion. The doctor had come alongside them, looking almost smug. It caused Mac to try and straighten, take a step back from Jack and lift his head. His hand stayed fisted in the front of Jack's jacket, but the former Delta realized it as a tactical move to keep balanced now than any lingering attempt to seek solace.

"It is why standing straight with a severe case of appendicitis is difficult, let alone snowshoeing," the doctor continued, gesturing to Mac and then to the sky. Kepler's head barely peaked out from the pack Accola was carrying strapped to his chest. The dog seemed to be the only one enjoying the outing. "Even if we weren't traversing the mountains in this godforsaken weather it would be ill advised and certainly painful."

"Dalton?" James appeared behind Accola, along with Bozer. Both men were panting from the exertion, taxed by the pace Jack was trying to keep. His teammate had wrapped a scarf mummy like over his head and face, his eyes the only thing visible, but Jack could imagine the worry lines Bozer was sporting.

"He needs a minute," Jack said, daring his boss to challenge him on the break. He flashed Mac a look knowing the kid was regaining his mental footing, gathering his sheer will and erecting typical defenses he'd momentarily let yield to the very real need to seek comfort from the pain he was experiencing.

"He needs a hospital," the old man corrected. Jack glared at him, the bastard looking almost at home in the adverse conditions as his counterpart from the North Pole despite his protests at traversing the pass in the storm. Even his parka and hat were red. Kepler's matching sweater was stitched with what looked like holly leaves. Accola had put a hat on the little dog as well, which made Jack want to like the bastard but then he reminded himself that even killers could show moments of what seemed like kindness. "The more he exerts himself the more likelihood of a perforation."

"Yeah, I got that part when we were leaving the cabin." Jack bared his teeth at the doctor all thoughts of him being human vanishing with the man's cold pronouncement. He wasn't convinced Accola's doomsday spiel wasn't self-serving instead of truly in Mac's best interest. He turned his gaze to James. "I was the one who wanted him to stay put."

"Jack…" Jack barely heard Mac's quiet admonition over the howling wind, but he felt the slight tug on his parka.

He sighed, running a hand over his mouth. Even he knew that asking Mac to put himself or his health above a mission was mostly a bunch of wasted breath, but Jack would have expected Oversight might have seen things differently, maybe even given an order for Jack to try and put the chopper down near the cabin. Now he saw that expecting the man to actually put his son first was as ridiculous as Bozer hoping Accola had a magical means of transportation they might utilize.

"It's a moot point now. We're only half a mile or so outside the village." Oversight's glance went to Mac, but only for a second. The kid was cricked over as if he were older than Accola, arm snug against his side. He still had a hand on Jack for a physical anchor, his pants forming small puffs of condensation.

"He can't go another yard like this, James, let alone a Klick." Jack waved a hand to the kid in exasperation, desperate to understand how James could discount the danger his son was presently facing.

"I can," Mac countered, an all too stubborn look on his pale face.

Jack turned on him, bringing his hand up to rest once more on the kid's neck. He tugged him closer, so his mouth was close to Mac's ear. He made sure to let some of his anger at James bleed through so that Mac understood he was deadly serious. "Stop being so freaking stubborn, brother. You're not walking the rest of the way out of here. You understand me. Not if I can help it."

Mac looked like he wanted to argue, but whatever genius reply he'd considered was swallowed by another wave of agony. He curled forward, Jack being the only thing right now preventing him from falling. The kid's head was pressed against his chest again, his breath ragged, and Jack turned slightly so that this display of vulnerability was out of sight from the others. Although a part of him wanted James to bear full witness, he loved Mac too much to take advantage.

"We could carry him." Bozer suggested and while Jack appreciated the willingness, he understood there would be no 'we' about it. Mac wasn't unconscious, and short of Jack rendering him that way, he'd never go for a two man arms carry. A fore and aft hold or a four hand seat would be hampered by the ever-deepening snow and Jack and Bozer's height differences. Bozer was slight and though a good runner, Mac outweighed him. Building a litter was more problematic and time consuming than helpful at this point. All Mac needed was to be hypothermic on top of everything already going on with him.

Jack gave Mac's neck a tight squeeze, forcing some levity back into his tone when the kid lifted his gaze to him now that it seemed the attack was over. "It's not like we can strap Kepler to a sled and have him pull your ass out of here. So how about a saddleback carry, bud? I can't promise it will be as smooth as a ride on Treaty, but it will give you a break and I'll get my workout in for the month. Hell, with the calories I'll burn I could eat a whole pie on Christmas day and not feel one bit guilty."

"As if you haven't done that before and never felt guilty," he heard Bozer mutter.

"But your shoulder…" Mac started, straightening to his somewhat hunched position. The kid's concern was humbling because Jack had mostly forgotten about being shot a few days before, a sad testament to their current state of affairs.

"No buts, Angus," James snapped impatiently, causing Mac to tense, then gasp at the pain the sudden reflex must have reawakened. Jack might have punched Oversight then and there if it wouldn't have left Bozer packing their boss back into Albinen. "Do as Dalton says," Oversight ordered.

Jack could see the stubbornness flare in his young partner's gaze and once more thought about how little James understood his own son. Ordering Mac to do any damn thing, especially something that required him to be dependent on another, was the worst kind of psychology.

"Please, brother." Jack moved so that he was blocking James from Mac's view once more. "If your appendix explodes in IED fashion and you come down with periodontal disease, I'll never forgive myself. You really want to do that to your best friend here at Christmas?"

"Hey, I'm his best friend." Bozer protested, moving closer.

Jack merely frowned at him, before stripping off his watch and handing it to their teammate. "Now you're my point man. Show me that you actually remember what you learned in spy school."

Mac's mouth barely twitched when Jack returned his gaze. He had his hand pressed to his side once more. "Periodontal disease has to do with your gums, Jack, and I'm pretty sure my appendix isn't going to blow like undetonated ordinance."

The former Delta was actually glad the whipping wind had all of them blinking tears from their eyes, their noses streaming because he was pretty sure he might have cried at the look of complete 'MacGyver bull-shit gage' on his boy's face. It was so much better than the misery-filled one from seconds before, even if it was just a momentary reprieve, a forced front for his old partner's sake.

"It's actually more of a slow tearing, which releases the pus and other infection into your abdominal cavity. A dam fissure is a more apt metaphor."

Both men glared at Accola, neither appreciative of his clarifying. He sagely raised a hand and took a few steps back. Jack looked at the kid who finally acquiesced and actually allowed Bozer to help him climb onto Jack's back, suppressing a groan when Jack stood from his crouched position and hefted him higher on his hips. A sharp twinge knifed through Jack's arm when he locked his hands around Mac's legs, offering another reminder of the ill-fated bullet wound.

"Sorry, partner." He tried to keep his tone light as he tightened his grip, knowing Mac's pride was taking a real beating right along with his inflamed appendix. "Told you this ride wouldn't be a smooth one. Speaking of horses though, good thing Treaty is an Appendix. Especially now that you're about to lose yours. You'll still have one. Hell, technically you have a whole ranch of them."

"Don't." Mac groaned again, but this time it had more to do with Jack's poor attempt at humor. His hands were firm on Jack's shoulders and he rested his head against his own forearm. Mac's warm breath brushed against Jack's neck as he talked, softer now that he didn't' need to shout to be heard. Between the still pained quality of Mac's voice Jack could detect a spark of humor. "Leave it to a Dalton to launch their ranch with a breed that shares a name with something that could kill you."

"Yeah well, there are no horse breeds that share a name with any guns or nitro like chemicals." Jack laughed, even though every muscle in his legs burned as he pushed through the snow, his focus completely on keeping them moving. Adrenaline had helped keep the weariness from his latest mission at bay over the last few hours, but the added weight on his back and the snowshoeing in blizzard conditions was reminding him of his training days in Delta, when their commanders would push them to the brink of exhaustion and to the limits of human endurance. Bozer had taken the lead and he was glad James had joined him. It kept Bozer on track and Oversight away from Mac.

"I hope I get to see her." Mac's voice was even quieter now, the relief allowing weariness to bleed through. "Treaty."

"You'll see her in less than a week." Jack said emphatically, even as his heart picked up an even faster pounding against his chest. Fear, it seemed, was a hell of a task master, better than any drill sergeant screaming in your face. The determination not to let his partner get even a little maudlin pushed him to gather his reserve energy and he increased his pace. "I'm not sure you'll be up for a ride by then, but you should love having an excuse not to let me and Raucus try and reclaim our prize from the last time you two cheated us out of victory."

"We won fair and square." Mac came back, voice a bit muffled. "I'm pretty sure we'd still win, even with me laid up like I am."

Jack forced a laugh, shaking his head slightly at the kid's grit. Mac would have breezed through TEAM's training. "Keep telling yourself that, bud. Maybe I let you win."

"First time, possibly," Mac mumbled, his voice thicker and slower, the weight on Jack's back suddenly growing causing him to wonder if his partner was actually close to falling asleep. He wouldn't have minded, preferred it actually knowing how the kid needed it and that it might spare him the pain he was in, but he was afraid Mac might slip right off. His partner seemed to either intuit Jack's concern or considered the possibility himself because he tightened his grip on Jack's shoulders and his voice sounded more alert when he spoke again, "But you're too competitive to keep that up for long. You hate to lose."

"Like you know me so well." Jack snorted, but understood they both knew the truth of the matter. Jack did hate to lose. He was competitive by nature and as stubborn as he often accused Mac of being. It was a good combination for his profession, especially in a scenario such as their current one. Jack didn't know how to quit, when to say die.

"I know you better than anyone." Mac's tone was quiet once more, but Jack suspected the weight and heaviness he now detected had nothing to do with his partner's weariness or the tug of unconsciousness.

Jack's gaze went to James, plodding along in front of them, wondered if Mac was staring at the same thing when he felt his partner lift his head from where it rested against Jack's back. The man always seemed to be two steps ahead. It was a lead Jack had allowed, giving the man freer rein than he'd earned when it came to the job and to Mac. Hoping upon hope that Oversight might prove himself worthy of the trust in both areas, but especially in the parent part. But James only ran wild with it, showing himself the opposite. Jack tightened his hold on Mac, blinking snow from his eyes.

"Yeah, I know you do, bud." Mac was right. Jack might concede for a while, hold back on his instincts, especially if he thought it served a higher purpose, but sooner or later his true nature would win out. Deferring was not in Jack Dalton's makeup. Mac seemed to glean what was coming even if neither of them dared to speak of it.

RcJ

Mac was barely hanging on, to Jack and to consciousness, when they finally made it to the village of Albinen. He imagined it was part due to mere exhaustion, the trip, the hike into town from the chopper and the snowshoeing all on the tail end of no sleep, little rest, and not much food or water taking their toll. Thanks to his fever and the times he'd been sick, dehydration was a real concern, but not the biggest one.

Even the constant stabbing pain in Mac's side was no longer the top most concern as the storm had seemed to continue to grow in its strength and gale. Now a full blown blizzard, it had covered the small town in a thick blanket of snow and was still continue to accumulate. Cars had become misshapen blobs, pine trees were monstrous marshmallows. Even the shops and the chalet looked as if they had been haphazardly covered with white billowy drop cloths-half finished works of some mad artist.

"Damn." He heard Jack swear as they came out of the tree line and got a good view of the town they'd left only hours before. It had been transformed by the weather, even more of a ghost town than when they'd left at dawn. Most people here would have known that a storm of such magnitude was nothing to tempt. If one wanted to make it through the harsh winters, to see spring, one learned quickly to stay safe inside.

"The whole place is dark." Mac said and tried to bite back on the gasp of pain that Jack's abrupt stop brought. He blinked, his vision blurring for a second. It was afternoon, but the weather had seemed to block out the sun. Lamps inside homes and the lights from businesses should have shown around them, beaming out through frost-covered windows but everything remained dark, appearing vacated although Mac was sure that wasn't the case. Still, a shudder ran through him as thoughts of a ghost town muddled his mind.

"Shit. You're right." Jack did not sound pleased.

"Power's out," Mac said through his gritted teeth as Jack released his hold and let him down to his feet as gently as possible. The wind lashed against him and he hunched over, instantly missing the extra body heat he'd had. He was grateful Bozer was suddenly there to grip his arm because Mac wasn't sure if his legs would hold him and though the knee-high snow would have buffeted his fall, he didn't imagine so much as a light jostle would be welcomed considering the fact he didn't want to move at all.

"Accola says he has a generator." Bozer shouted to be heard over the howl of the wind, jerking his head to the backs of Oversight and the doctor, who were already ahead of them battling their way across the street. "At least we'll have heat. I can't feel my feet."

"Can you get him over to the clinic?" Jack had taken Mac's other arm, but had yet to start them moving.

"Why?" Mac whipped his gaze to his partner, interrupting before his roommate could answer. The tight knot in his stomach that had nothing to do with his current condition tightened. An irrational fearl slowly started to unfurl. "Where are you going?"

"I should go on to get the chopper, start digging it out." Jack's gaze was grim.

Mac held his partner's determined stare. There were ice crystals on Jack's dark lashes, on the ends of his short beard. "You know that chopper isn't going anywhere in this. Maybe if you had gotten your wish for a Mil Mi-8, or a Black Hawk." Jack had wanted if not a military issue chopper then one used in heli-skiing in harsh conditions. He'd gotten neither. Mac imagined his father was going for low key and figured a military attack or large transport helicopter was not the way to go. Or he just wanted to put Jack's flying abilities to the test, possibly set him up for failure. Either way, the chopper they'd brought, a much smaller lighter Eurocopter was not suited for what they were currently facing. He didn't have to work to let the desperation seep into his voice. It was aided by the misery he was in, multiplied by the sudden fear for his friend. "You'll never get it off the ground, Jack."

"And you don't even have a Tauntaun. Your ass will freeze before the first mile marker." Bozer interjected, not quite catching on to the seriousness of the situation. Any other time the Star Wars reference to the frozen planet of Hoth and Han Solo's rescue of Luke during weather very reminiscent of what they were facing now might have delighted Jack and most certainly would have welcomed a rebuttal along the same lines but Jack's face only darkened and he sent a 'shut it' glare to Bozer before returning his gaze to Mac.

"We're running on a time line here." Jack of course meant Mac's and not Accola's and the senator's son.

"At least warm up and get some provisions." Mac wasn't above using his best friend's weakness against him, or his own words. "Please, Jack." He gripped the other man's arm, his eyes searching Jack's. He could barely hang on and knew his partner could see it too. There wasn't much he could get past Jack on a good day. Today was not one of those days he even had the energy to try and understood it would only work for him in trying to talk the other stubborn man down. "I'd never forgive myself if you froze to death, or worse was kidnapped and eaten by a Wampa. Don't do that to me, man. Not here at Christmas."

Jack dropped his chin to his chest, letting out a laugh. "Fine," He growled when he looked up. "But I'm requisitioning the damn bird the next time your old man even mentions us flying into a gig with bad weather."

"Oh so he can use a Star Wars reference but I can't," Bozer said, almost petulantly.

Despite everything Mac fought to roll his eyes. Mummified by a scarf or not, Mac knew his roommate was smirking.

"He has appendicitis and a raging fever." Jack returned, starting them moving. He'd slid his arm around Mac's back, offering what support he could. Still moving hurt like hell and Mac had to bite the inside of his jaw to keep from crying out. Each time he lifted his leg enough to move it through the high snow, it felt as if a blade was stabbing through his gut. "I'm cutting him some slack."

"I'm pretty sure I could have two broken legs and you'd still not cut me any," Bozer feigned muttering but made sure it was loud enough to be heard over the wind.

"You really want to test that theory, Boze?" Jack's voice sounded menacing, and Mac realized the exchange was mostly for his benefit. He let his head fall to his chest, gritting his teeth when the pain in his side spiked again. "Because I will oblige," Jack warned.

"Not today, no." Bozer still had a hold of Mac's other arm and when he took off at a steady clip to keep out of Jack's reach just in case, Mac was jarred, unable to hold back on the gasp and the pained groan it elicited.

"That's it," Jack said, Mac's slack obviously running out as well. The older man turned and without pretense or waiting for permission bent and scooped Mac up into an arm carry.

Mac was in too much pain to be completely mortified, grateful to be off his feet and in somewhat of a curled position that alleviated the pull on his side at least a little. He opened his mouth to attempt a protest because he knew his best friend had to be exhausted, having trudged miles, one of which he had the weight of Mac on his back, but Jack only held him tighter, determination in his pace.

"It's only across the street, bud. Your man-card will stand intact," Jack said seriously before Mac could mutter a word. Mac finally let his head drop against the older man's shoulder, resting in the crook of his neck, with a resigned sigh. He was ashamed to say he was secretly pleased to once more have the extra shared body heat. Jack glanced at Bozer. "You'd think the kid would be glad I'm not having to gut a Tauntaun to shove him inside."

Bozer snorted, moving alongside Jack "I'm not so sure the smell is all that different, Jack."

"Ha. Ha. You're lucky I literally have my hands full with Mac, mister comedian."

Bozer's reply was lost on the whipping of the wind and Mac closed his eyes, trying to breathe slowly and as shallowly as possible. He shivered. Another sharp stab to his side had him inhaling deeper than he wanted. Instead of what Bozer suggested, Mac was actually comforted by the scent of Old Spice, outdoors and something that was just unique to Jack. He concentrated on it, as it promised safety and hinted of home.

Within minutes they were at the clinic. But Bozer opened the door and they entered, lights were already flickering on. Jack let Mac go, waiting to make sure he could stand albeit a bit unsteady before turning to shove the door closed once more, the wind making the task harder than it should have been.

"It seems Mr. MacGyver has gotten the generator started." Accola explained as Mac looked around the small office. It was done in warm muted shades of ocher and sienna, unusual for a medical clinic and Mac wondered if the pallet reminded the doctor of the dessert because it instantly brought Afghanistan to the younger man's mind, an unwelcomed intrusion. His fevered rain not helping matters at all.

"It is still fairly warm inside," Accola continued, possibly taking Mac's wince as further expression of his physical pain because he looked suddenly more concerned. "I don't believe we lost electricity very long ago, but it could be hours before it is restored if this storm does not let up."

"I can get a fire going." Jack gestured to the stone hearth. It's presence only confirmed Mac's suspicions that Accola's clinic might have once been a residence. His partner didn't wait for the doctor to acknowledge his suggestion, but did give Bozer a brief nod, before moving to start the task.

"Come on, you should sit down, Mac." Bozer acted on the silent communication, having gotten better at reading Jack's non-verbal cues. Mac eyed the row of hard back egg-shaped chairs that looked almost Danish in design, and then the more inviting leather couch that was in the center of the room, straight across from the fireplace. He didn't want to move, not sure that he could at this point. Even standing up straight was impossible but the promise of sitting down for a while out of the freezing weather and possibly relieving some of the strain from his side won out.

"Yeah," was all he managed hoarsely before Bozer had latched onto his arm and carefully guided him over. Kepler joined Mac as soon as he sat and he didn't complain when the little dog curled against him. The added warmth, as small as it was, welcomed. He couldn't help but to think of the ranch, Lilly and Switzer and how the two Labradors would battle for the spot closest to him. Visions of the ridiculously large Christmas tree Nana Beth would have had JP and the ranch hands drag in by now danced before Mac's eyes and he reached up to wearily rub at them.

"You should take off your wet things," Accola spoke again, completely breaking the spell. Mac watched him moved to a shelf where he could see baskets with magazines and stack of neatly folded blankets. The old man had already shed his coat, hat and gloves, his face still bright red from the exposure they'd endured.

James appeared from the back, making his way over to them. He squatted in front of Mac, rubbing his hands together. "How are you doing, son?" He asked, rocking back slightly as he blew into his now cupped fingers to supposedly warm them up faster.

Mac was pissed that his emotions rushed to the surface at the question, fueled by the increasing pain in his side and the memories of a little boy who had once ran to the man now in front of him anytime he was afraid or hurt. He hesitated, tempted to be honest, to say he was scared that he was worse, that he could hardly breathe through the pain now and couldn't remember being quite so miserable in a very long time. But his hard fought defenses easily overpowered his inner child with the need to not appear weaker than he was sure he already did. He even managed to keep a straight face as he looked in his father's dark eyes and replied. "About the same, sir."

James frowned, tilting his head slightly as if he was puzzled by the answer or possibly detecting the obvious lie. He glanced up at Accola, who held two blankets in his hands. "What do you think, doctor?"

It was a dismissal of Mac's opinion, and even though Mac had not been completely forthcoming nor was he a medical professional it still rankled him that in typical fashion Oversight was dismissing his input on the situation, a situation that fully involved him, that was in fact all about him.

"Did you reach Matty?" Jack was standing at James's side now that he'd gotten a small fire going. Oversight turned from Accola who had not answered the question James posed.

He shook his head, standing as well as he ran a hand over his face. "The storm has to be blocking the satellite."

Both men looked down at Mac, for a moment the twin looks of concern giving them a similarity to their features that made James's cover story from earlier of them being brothers almost plausible. But then Jack forced a half smile and the illusion faded.

"Not the first time we've been in a situation with no communication," he arched a brow at Mac. "But my partner's usually up to building a useful cell tower out of some pieces of scrap metal or an intergalactic microphone from a boom box." Jack further distanced himself from any likeness of Oversight as he reached out and placed a hand on Mac's forehead, obviously from the scowl on his face not liking what he felt. Mac was too busy trying to keep his teeth from chattering to complain about the big brother move. "I'm pretty sure you shouldn't feel like you just came back from one your morning marathons under the California sun."

"We missed check in," Bozer pointed out, sounding a bit panicked. He glanced from one man to the other. "Maybe Matty will send back-up."

"We are the back-up, Boze." Jack reminded, sliding a hand over Mac's head, effectively removing the wet hat he'd been wearing. He tossed it aside, his gaze going from James to Accola. "Even if we weren't told ahead of time."

"I don't think we'll be making your time line," the doctor spoke, folding his arms over his chest, his emotions unreadable. "At least not until the weather passes. As I told you before that could be more worrisome for young Angus than the boy being held in Afghanistan."

Mac wanted to disagree, wanted to turn the attention away from him, but another sharp pain in his side had him folding forward, one arm wrapped around his midsection. He gripped the side of the couch with his other hand, silently cursing the bad timing. Mac had barely managed a breath, his abused muscles relaxing fractionally when another attack struck even more intense. This time he swore loudly and couldn't hold back on the groan. Jack was in front of him, his hands were on his shoulders, keeping him upright. He couldn't catch his breath and that more than anything scared Mac.

"Mac?" Jack said, "Kid, talk to me."

Mac reached up and gripped the folds of Jack's coat. Nausea washed over him and he swallowed convulsively to keep from being sick. "Jack."

"You need to help him." Mac heard Bozer say over Jack's quieter voicer, the one that was closer and assured Mac he was going to be okay, that he was there and was going to fix it. His Overwatch was bent over him, his words meant only for Mac, as some way to offer whatever shelter and protection he could.

"There has to be something here you can give him, Doc," Bozer spoke again, clearly agitated.

"Bring him into the back," Acoola ordered.

"Come on, bud. I gotcha." Jack gave a slight tug on Mac's arm to get him to his feet. It became clear fairly quickly that Mac wasn't going anywhere on his own as his knees buckled, legs threatenting to give out completely. Jack made quick work of picking him up. Mac was beyond caring at this point and it seemed like mere seconds before they were in another room and Jack was easing him onto a padded table.

"Get his coat off," Accola said, his tone official and in charge now that they were in his workspace. Nothing remained of the half-drunk man from before. Mac was vaguely aware of his father stepping forward to help, his attempts bumbling as he seemed to rush the process, or either Mac's limbs were merely not cooperating quickly enough and this inability for Mac just to do as he wanted was, as usual, frustrating the other man immensely.

"Take it easy," Jack said and Mac wasn't completely sure if he was talking to him-because he still had his eyes squeezed shut- or to James. He gasped, his breathing coming of its own accord in harsh shallow pants. Mac forced his eyes open when someone pried his fingers from Jack's arm which he'd latched onto.

"Hey. It's okay," Jack assured, from where he had stepped back so James could pull the sleeve over Mac's hand. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Mac, you need to breathe. You're hyperventilating." Bozer's voice came from somewhere over his head.

"Oh God," Mac ground out, banging his head against the table, fingers curling into fists when Accola's cold hands were suddenly beneath his shirt on his hot skin, pressing against his stomach once more. Did the man have some sort of blade? Mac had been shot and stabbed. Tortured. This felt as bad, if not worse. "Stop," he choked.

Mac went to push Accola away, but found his hand caught by his father, the grip unyielding. "Lie still, Angus and let the man work."

He blinked, narrowing his blurry gaze at the man, but James was watching the doctor with a fierce concentration Mac recognized all too well.

"Hey, take it easy, brother." Jack was once more at his other side, a calming hand on his shoulder. Mac tugged at the hand his father held and tried to roll towards his best friend and away from the psychotic doctor who Mac now believed completely capable of everything Jack had accused him of, not only negligence but outright menace and possibly murder. But James grip held him in place.

"Dad, let me go." Panic was growing inside him crescendoing along with the pain. His heart beat against his chest like small fists from a prisoner demanding to be released from a locked closet. It was hard to think, to concentrate.

"Do as he says, James." Jack's tone was still calm and serious. Even in his worked up state, Mac instantly recognized it as badass Delta Dalton speak and knew it brooked no room for leeway. He was taken aback when he wasn't immediately released. After all, Mac had seen a whole Delta team snap in step to such a command, men bigger and braver and IQ wise a lot less bright than James MacGyver, but Oversight was as usual either oblivious to everything around him or too arrogant to realize the danger he was in. He kept hold of Mac, still forcing him to lay still. It hurt. Mac felt trapped.

"Mac, let the doctor check you out. Listen to your dad," Bozer pleaded from beside James, looking as if he were also in pain. Mac blinked, his vision wavering. Sweat dripped into his eyes, despite the fact he was still freezing. For a minute he couldn't understand how Bozer had gotten there, why he might be in Afghanistan, then Accola's hands moved directly over Mac's right side and he only knew pain. White. Hot. All consuming pain.

He was certain he cried out, must have kicked out too because someone was now holding his feet or had a body fallen across his legs. He vaguely hoped it wasn't Bozer, or Boxer? He wasn't sure anymore. Reality bled away. The red and orange walls shifted, shimmering like a mirage. The table solid beneath him only seconds before, was now loose and shifting as the desert dunes could sometimes be. Without mooring, a man could disappear. That's what Mac did. He slipped beneath the sand, felt it swallow him whole, even as his hands grappled for something, anything to hold onto.

RCJ

"Angus." Jack caught the kid's hand, the one that had desperately reached out to him as soon as James had let go of Mac's wrist. The anguish in Mac's cry had seemed enough to shake Oversight from his determination to have things done his own damn way, to see the error in once more discounting that Jack might know best.

"Mac," Jack tried again, pushing aside thoughts of throat punching Oversight in lieu of bringing his other hand to press his fingers against his partner's throat. Mac's pulse was racing and erratic, his skin way too hot. He moved his hand to the kid's face and glanced darkly at Accola, who looked concerned but not overly so.

"The pain has gotten much worse," the man surmised, rubbing a hand over his beard, looking thoughtful.

"You think," Jack growled, palming his partner's face, patting Mac's cheek. "Come on, Mac."

Glassy blue eyes blinked up at him and he let out a breath of relief, dropping his chin to his chest for a second. "Damn, kid. You are seriously wearing me out."

"Jack?"

It was great to see that his partner had just blanked out for a bit but the look of genuine confusion had Jack's gut twisting again.

"My stomach really hurts." The pained frown was back as well.

"Yeah," Jack reached up and pushed damp hair out of the kid's eyes where it had stuck to his sweat-covered face. The way Mac had let his hair grow longer since James showed up- in what may or may not have been some unconscious act of rebellion- actually made him look younger somehow which was strange because when Jack had first met him his hair had been much shorter and he'd seemed practically a toddler back then. Jack forced a half smile he did not feel. Worry was a tight ball of ice in the pit of his stomach now. "I know it does, brother."

"What's wrong?" Mac blinked, confusion still deeply etched on his face. "Are you okay? Where are we?"

Jack's smile slipped, from the corner of his eye he saw Bozer shift closer. "You're sick. Remember?"

"Right. A bookshelf fell on me." Mac said, not understanding. His brow furrowed, and he looked around. "Where are Stills and Candler?"

Well, shit. Jack rubbed a hand over his face. The question stole any and all relief at the kid being awake and talking.

"Jack? What's he talking about?" Bozer asked. He had a hand on Mac's arm now, fingers wrapped around his roommate's wrist as if he was hoping to keep Mac tethered to them.

Mac's gaze went to Bozer, surprise sparking in the glassy blue gaze before it bounced back to Jack. "You did it. You got me home? Are we in California?"

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, took a steadying breath. It seemed that while Mac was awake, he was also mostly out of it. Either from the pain or fever, maybe a combination of both. His mind had travelled back to the nightmare that was Helmand when the kid and his team of EOD's had been caught in a bombing that brought a building down on top of them. Mac had internal injuries to his spleen that resulted in a life threatening situation and them being trapped without the means to offer the medical intervention he needed. It had been years ago, in Afghanistan, but the similarities to what was currently taking place couldn't be denied. Mac's brain was magic even in the worst of situations, but this time he'd quickly added two and two together and had come up with five.

"Did you make your famous Mac and Cheese?" He asked Bozer, eyes not quite focusing on the other man.

Bozer looked at Jack and the older man's heart ached at the innocence once more reflected there. He shook his head at Bozer, who plastered what he must have thought was a reassuring smile on his face.

"No Mac and Cheese, dude. We're in Switzerland. Remember. Albinen. The mission?"

Mac blinked, frowning. He tried to shift but it seemed to hurt too much and he stilled. His pained gaze traveled to Jack, and the older man felt the sharp sting of bitterness as it slid through at the unfairness that one kid could have been so completely sheltered from bad shit, while another had never been so lucky.

"Jack? What's going on?"

"We're not in Afghanistan. Like Boze, said, we're in Switzerland, dude," Jack stated calmly.

"Is this another flashback? We're wasting time!" James voice broke in.

Jack jerked his gaze to Oversight as if the man had struck him, but Mac gasped in pain again and Jack looked to Accola. The doctor's stoic facade had cracked, crumbling into the lines and folds of his face. For the first time since seeing the bastard Jack could almost imagine a resemblance to Santa. The doctor's blue eyes actually looked sympathetic, almost kind. He stared at Mac not with the disdain that Jack expected, but with the empathy of someone who had been to war and understood the scars that weren't always visible.

"Pain and disorientation from a high fever can often be a trigger for an episode of post trauma," he said, unnecessarily. Jack was well aware what could bring demons to the surface, release ghosts from their graves.

He laid his hand on Mac's head, the kid having once more curled into a protective ball, one hand latched onto the end of Jack's jacket. Mac was shivering and he seemed to be trying to make himself as small as possible for warmth or to perhaps hide from whatever was hurting him.

"Jack?"

"I'm here, bud." Jack bent down, hoping to catch the kid's eye. "You back with me?"

"Yeah," Mac coughed. When he finally glanced up at Jack, some of the confusion had faded, leaving pain and exhaustion in its wake. "Sorry, it's hard to think straight."

"It's okay, kid." Jack fought for calmness, even when every instinct in him demanded he do something to help his partner.

"Doctor?" James queried, obviously also growing impatient with the situation. Jack hoped to hell the man was more concerned for his son's predicament than the mission's timeline.

"I'm afraid Angus's condition has progressed far enough that you've run out of options as well as time." Accola replied, matter of factly. "Your son needs surgery. Now."

That seemed to snap Mac free of the last of his disorientation. "No." He actually let go of Jack and rolled over, his gaze zeroing in on Accola. "No surgery. Not yet."

"Now, Mac…" Bozer started.

"Can you do the surgery here?" But James continued on as if Mac hadn't spoken.

"I have a small suite, a short supply of anesthesia," Accola said with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "I could ask Silvan at the spa and resort to assist. It is not ideal, but it's a miracle that the boy's appendix hasn't ruptured yet. At this point, we may have no other choice."

"I believe the choice is mine," Mac said, struggling to raise himself up on one elbow, the lines on his face deepening with the added movement. Jack resisted reaching out to keep him still, not wanting to risk making the situation worse. "I'm the patient," Mac pointed out, fiercely.

"That's true, young man, you are the patient and you have a say in…"

"But you're not thinking straight," James interrupted, his eyes narrowing at Mac. Jack saw the explosion coming from a mile away. He intuited the damage it would cause in the way Mac flinched at the words, the way hurt which had nothing to do with appendicitis raced through the kid's blue gaze.

"You heard him," James continued on oblivious to the detonator he'd switched, once more addressing the doctor, "My son thinks he's in Afghanistan. He's out of his head and unable to make rational decisions in his best interest. Just do what you need to do to help him, before the situation destabilizes to something worse."

Jack was still trying to decide if James was referring to Mac's condition or the mission when Mac made it all the way to sitting.

"Not this time." Mac said, breathlessly and Jack could see the toll it was taking on him. The kid was shaking, but he pressed on, obviously determined to make his point. Bozer put a steadying hand on his shoulder, once again looking unsure.

"Come on, Mac. The doctor knows what he's talking about. Your dad is just trying to help, to make sure you're okay."

"Dalton, you need to go and collect the nurse, this Silvan, from the spa. Tell him there's an emergency at the clinic but nothing…"

"No!" Mac said even before Jack could tell James what he could do with his order. He pulled away from Bozer, holding his side. Jack stepped closer just in case his partner tumbled right off the table. "I told you I'm not okay with this, that…"

"It's not up to you, Angus!" James rounded on the kid, looking almost as angry as he'd been in Peru, when Mac had mentioned his mother. Jack had been amped up on Jonah Walsh's super soldier drug then. He'd nearly killed Oversight in his blind rage. He had no synthetic hormone surging through him now, but his completely organic protective instinct to throw himself at James was almost as intense. "This is no longer your decision," James actually pointed his finger at the kid. "I'm lead agent on this mission _and_ I'm your father. I'm in charge."

"Not anymore." Jack didn't even realize that he was going to make a move until his hand was on the gun, until he'd actually drawn the weapon and pointed it at Oversight. Later, hours into the future when Matty would question him hoping for some shred of reason she could use to help his case, he would truthfully confess he knew exactly what he was doing, understood perfectly the line he was so clearly stepping across in brandishing a weapon against a superior. It was as crystalized as the moment years before after Helmand when Jack had agreed to take whatever missions Joint Forces could throw at him as long as it got one Angus MacGyver out of Afghanistan. The only difference was this act was one of willful misconduct against a higher authority on the mission field- gross insubordination certainly, possibly even treason. But in hanidsight, Jack would also say that it was worth it-worth whatever they did to him. He calmly stared down the sights to James MacGyver, stalwart and unwavering in his decision. He rested his finger on the trigger.

"As the kid's named next of kin, his power of attorney, _and_ the one with the gun, then I'd have to say I'm in charge, _Sir_. You need to back the hell up."

To be continued...


	6. Chapter 6

Let's Be Enemies

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: So….tonight is the night. I had originally wanted to finish this story before the show caught up to us and Jack departed, but that was not to be. It will be completely AU, so I'm not sure why it mattered to me but I decided the integrity of what I was trying to tell was more important than rushing through so this will probably have another chapter or two. This is a super long chapter and it was difficult to convey what I wanted to say but I hope it comes across. I wouldn't have even gotten close if not for Mary, who added so much to this chapter. I won't be watching tonight (because I just have this feeling it is not going to be the Mac/Jack moment it should be)…but for those of you who do and need a little comfort I hope this might help!

RcJ

"Do it, James." Jack kept the gun pointed at his boss, words deadly serious. "Move away from the table. Back towards the door."

"Jack!" Bozer's eyes were as big as saucers. He'd let go of Mac, moving away from Jack as well unable to hide how stunned he was at the turn of events. His gaze flickered back and forther between the older man and Mac. "What the hell are you doing?" He hissed.

"You, too, Boze." Jack ducked his head to the door. He didn't want to lump Bozer with James and the doctor, but he needed to talk to Mac. Alone. "All of you. Out!"

"I don't think you understand what you're doing," Accola tried, gesturing to Mac still sitting hunched on the table, one hand protectively curled over his middle.

"It seems I'm not the one having a hard time understanding." Jack moved his weapon to cover the other men, hand steady. "You all seem to be under the impression we're still having a consultation, but the conversation's over. At least your part in it." He stepped from around the table, placing himself in between Mac and the three other men. Something more dangerous bled into the serious calm of his voice. "Get. Out."

"This is insane even for you, Dalton." James had wisely taken a step back, his face reflecting both his incredulity and a hint of smug satisfaction. He crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head. But his stubbornness wasn't allowing for his self-preservation to kick in. It seemed it was a MacGyver family trait, one that expressed itself in a much uglier way with the father than it ever did with his son. "You've finally snapped."

"Maybe." Jack waved a hand towards the door, barely feeling any pain in his shoulder now as adrenaline fueled his body. Mac's attempts to suppress the noise of his misery was like tossing gasoline on a fire and the former Delta briefly considered where to put the bullet. "All the more reason, you should be worried I might gladly shoot you if you don't get away from my partner and out of my face."

"This is the end for you at Phoenix. Surely you realize that." James expression was one of genuine confusion, as if his logical brain could not puzzle out Jack's end game.

"Surely you realize I don't give a shit." Jack wanted to laugh and scream at the same time. Did the man actually think he was worried about his job. Were his actions so ruled by order and reason that he truly didn't comprehend why Jack was doing what he was doing.

"Angus…" James tried, switching gears. To the man's credit, he seemed genuinely concerned, worried enough that his voice had softened as he attempted a novel tactic on his part, one he might have considered earlier which was to reason with the kid instead of running over him.

"Don't talk to him." Jack reached out and shoved Oversight with his free hand causing the man to stumble into Bozer. He brought the gun right to James's chest, feeling a liberation of his typical restraint in a way he hadn't since he'd been dosed with Mac's modified version of the KX7.

Jack's thoughts were never dictated by the rationale or as calculated as Oversight's. He was not one to be ruled by sensibility but he also wasn't ever reckless or out of control by any means, even if it might appear so to those who did not know him well. But where James's motives were dictated by his intellect, Jack was fueled by primal emotion and protectiveness in a way that was perhaps far more dangerous than cold logistics alone. It was no wonder Jack and James were always, inevitably meant to come to this crossroads.

"I'm his father," James tried.

"I. Don't. Care." Jack lowered his voice. Unflinching. Resolute.

"I think now's a good time to allow Jack a moment alone with Mac." Bozer actually took James's arm, his unsure gaze flashing to Jack for just an instant as if he believed Jack might actually do what he said. Of course, Jack was the one who'd preached that a man never pulled his gun unless he planned to use it. It was not an easy lesson for anyone to learn, but one Jack heeded to. He had every intention of doing what needed to be done, but the flash of fear Jack caught in his teammates' gaze was like a bucket of cold water and he lowered the weapon slightly, hoping and praying the scenario would not escalate, that Oversight wasn't stupid enough to provoke him.

"Listen to him," Jack growled between clenched teeth. Behind him he could hear Mac breathing harshly and a flash of the time Murdoc shot Mac flashed through his mind, the opportunity he'd forsaken to end the threat to his best friend. Jack had not taken the shot, and later considered it a great mistake on his part. He prayed he wouldn't one day be looking back on this moment with the same clarity and sense of guilt.

"I for one am going to do as he says," Accola finally announced with another long look at Mac. "I hope you can come to a decision soon." He was already moving towards the door before Jack or Mac could reply, the first to make a hasty exit.

"Your turn, pal." Jack nodded to Bozer, then the door. "Lock it on your way out."

James pulled away from Bozer, turning on his heel to stride after Accola without so much as a glance back to his son. Bozer followed, but hesitated before leaving. He turned, his unsure gaze moving past Jack to the table behind him.

"It's okay, Boze," Mac spoke for the first time, his voice weak and so full of pain it made Jack want to empty a clip into the damn wall just to release his frustration.

"I hope you know what you're doing." Bozer's gaze was now trained on Jack, something worse than fear reflected in his dark eyes. Uncertainty. Doubt. Disappointment. As if he didn't recognize the man before him, wasn't certain of his motives. Jack wanted to exclaim, 'so do, I', but Bozer didn't wait for a reply. He set the lock on the door as Jack had instructed and gently pulled it closed behind him. The soft click was as loud as a gunshot.

RcJ

"Jack." Mac tried to keep the pain from his voice hoping to mask the panic he'd had to beat down in the wake of his father's decision to take over the situation completely.

"Hey." His partner turned at the soft entreaty and from the worried folds on his forehead, Mac had done a terrible job of covering his emotions. He held onto the edge of the table with his free hand to keep himself upright. Jack slid his gun back into its holster with a heavy sigh before reaching out to grip Mac's shoulder. "You look like you might be ready to take a header off the table, bud. How about you lay back down. Okay?"

Mac closed his eyes for a moment, always taken aback by how Jack could flip a switch that took him from badass to hovering mother-hen in the span of a breath. Jack read his lack of reply as an acquiescence and eased him back on to the cushioned surface. Mac allowed it, because honestly he wasn't sure if he wouldn't fall over as his body was becoming unresponsive to his commands. The movement hurt and once down Mac carefully rolled over to his side, trying to find a more comfortable position with his knees drawn up high to his chest. Any relief eluded him and he couldn't stop the soft sounds of pain escaping him. Mac's heart was racing and an all too familiar wave of nausea washed over him, forcing him to swallow reflexively. He felt Jack press the back of his hand against his forehead, his partner's skin almost icy in comparison to his.

Mac forced his eyes open, looking up at the older man. "Thanks for that…with Oversight."

"No problem. You know I have your back." Jack slid a hand over his hair before stepping back to snag the lone rolling stool in the room. He pulled it close to the table, slipping out of his jacket he had yet to remove since they'd made it to the clinic. Jack tossed the wet parka aside before sitting. "But we need to talk."

"Are you okay?" Mac's wavering gaze had been drawn straight to the large, fresh red stain on his partner's gray shirt, the heat gear reflecting the gruesome patch of blood in the bright fluorescent lights of the examination room. For a moment the shock of seeing Jack's injury overriding his own misery and Mac tried to push himself back into a sitting position. "You're bleeding."

"Am I alright?" Jack looked at him as if the question was ridiculous even though the blood was undeniable. He laughed, giving a familiar shake of his head as the look of incredulity morphed to a very familiar one of exasperated fondness. Mac's plan to rise was gently blocked as Jack guided him back down to the table. "I'm not the one about to go under the knife, bud."

"You've busted your stitches loose." Mac stopped himself from adding 'carrying me'. He managed to lift a shaky hand to point out the evidence. He blinked, frustrated that his focus was slipping.

"It's okay." Jack avoided Mac's gaze by looking down at his chest, but Mac got the distinct impression his partner had already known the blood stain was there. When he did look up, he'd forced a smile that looked slightly guilty. "It's nothing serious. I'll get the doctor to sew me up after he's done with you."

"But…" Mac tried only to have Jack lean his elbows on the table, pinning him with an intent stare. Worry deepened the lines on his face.

" _But_ nothing, dude. It can wait. Your situation can't."

Mac did not miss that it was the second time his partner had talked about the surgery as if it would be happening soon. The technique was subtler than his father's had been, but Mac got the impression Jack was just as determined he listen to reason. Mac felt new panic rise. He tried once more to push himself up on an elbow but was stopped by a sharp pain this time.

He fell back with a groan. "Damn it, Jack. You just defended my right to make my own decision about that surgery." He licked his dry lips, trying to breathe through the worst of the pain. It was undeniable that he was far too tired to put much energy into any argument. Instead he'd use the only advantage he had, which was ironically the fact he was pitifully weak. Envisioning the big eyed cat from Shrek he blinked up at his partner. "You said you had my back."

Jack's expression went soft for a moment, the tactic obviously working before he gave a quick shake of his head, then a roll of his own eyes. "Nice try, brother, but I defended you because your father was being a freaking bully and I hate bullies. If I could go back in time and take care of all the ones who'd tried that shit with you, I'd do it."

Mac sighed, understanding that Jack would not be thwarted, not when it came to protecting him and not when he thought he was doing what was inevitably in Mac's best interest. In fact, Mac had no doubt that if he provided Jack Dalton with a list of names, the man would indeed track the offenders down, one by one, even if Mac had insisted that he'd handled himself quite well all those years ago. His mouth twitched at the idea. "Like you did with my middle school nemesis, Donny Sandoz?"

Jack smirked, gently squeezing Mac's shoulder. "Punching that bastard was worth it. He gives the boys in blue a bad name."

Mac attempted to reply that it had cost them both a night in jail and had also forced Thornton to call in a few favors but the pain in his side suddenly ratcheted and he reached out to wrap his fingers in Jack's shirt, swallowing the choked scream he wanted to let loose. He instinctively rolled closer to his partner, pulling the older man down to his level, not caring now how it made him look. Mac just wanted the pain to stop. It was relentless and quite literally making him crazy. Memories of the desert, of Helmand once more tried to invade the present, but Mac bit the inside of his jaw, dug his fingernails into his palm and clung to Jack to keep himself grounded.

"Hey, take it easy. You're okay." Jack's hand came back to his head, this time his fingers absently running through Mac's hair in what Mac recognized as the other man's last ditch effort to try and offer some sort of comfort, the only shelter he could provide. He would have liked to have rebuffed the big brother move, teased his best friend for the fact that it was something a mom would do, not a kickass Delta, but he couldn't deny that although it didn't help easy his physical pain in the least, it somehow made him feel better. Maybe that proved him weak, maybe it made him more of a kid than he even wanted to admit, or possibly it just reminded him that he wasn't alone. The illusion of safety at least helped to calm some of the anxiety Mac was feeling.

"Remember old Donny's face when he took those cuffs off me and I proceeded to pop him square in the nose." Jack's voice was soft, and soothing, almost like he was telling a bedtime story or talking to a scared animal, one of the horses at the ranch. "Bastard thought he was being cute when he banged your head shoving you into that police car. But he sure as hell wasn't laughing when blood went everywhere with the crack of cartilage." Mac's breathing actually slowed as his partner continued to recant the macabre tale. "His eyes got as big as the donuts he and his buddies probably scarfed down that morning. It was almost as priceless as the look on Oversight's mug just now."

Mac forced his eyes open, glancing up at his partner as the spell was temporarily broken. Dread was trying to unfurl inside of him, strangle out any kind of comfort he'd managed. The only positive was that it cleared some of the fevered fog from his mind. He reminded himself he had to hang on a little longer.

"That will not go away like the Donny situation, Jack." Mac's father sometimes felt like a stranger but he understood the man well enough to know he would not let such a challenge to his authority slide.

"I'm not worried about your dad at the moment, kiddo." Jack's hand stilled on Mac's head briefly before he removed his touch. Leaning his elbows on the table once more he kept Mac pinned with his gaze. "I'm worried about you. This ain't good."

"Jack…" Mac started, not daring to try once more to sit up even though he wanted nothing more than to prove he could wait out the weather.

"I think you also need to know I kicked your dad out of here because I don't think he gives you enough credit. I trust you to make the right decision here, kiddo. That appendix has go. And as smart as you are, I'm not about to let you dig it out with that little red knife of yours, or worse, give it a go myself."

"You'd really rather trust Dr. Accola cutting me open in this little office of his?" Mac blinked, knowing he was once more not playing fair but desperate to keep himself from being sidelined in a way that took him off the playing field completely. "You saw him earlier. He's a drunk. There's a reason he retired here where he only treats colds and frostbite."

"I'm not okay with Accola being in the same room as you, much less wielding a blade over your unconscious body, damn it, but I don't have a choice in the matter, Angus."

Mac didn't mean to flinch but the sudden anger in his partner's voice was surprising. He drew back and Jack's face instantly registered regret. The older man slid both hands through his hair, blowing out a long breath. "Fuck. Do you think I want to put your life in a man's hands that I don't know if I can trust?"

Mac swallowed reflexively, realizing he was pushing his best friend's limits of patience but he needed to Jack to understand. "There's always a choice."

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing wearily. "Not when the only other option means we're risking your life needlessly, dude. If your appendix ruptures things go from Helmand bad straight to Cairo crazy. You understand that, right? I can't lose you, kid."

"I can take something for the pain. We still have time…And I can't leave you on your own, Jack." Mac's declaration was punctuated with a groan, one that had him gasping for breath and latching onto Jack's arm. His fingers dug in painfully. He pressed his forehead into the cool material of the table. "Please."

Jack stood, as if he were preparing to go hand to hand with what was hurting Mac, hands curled into fists. Only there was nothing corporeal to strike, no Donny Sandoz to make pay this time. Instead he gripped Mac's other hand in his, determined to help him ride out the agony if he couldn't stop it.

"My dad will send you away again, to Afghanistan with Accola…" Mac kept talking, the words bleeding out of their own accord as if whatever organ he kept his deepest fears locked in had also become inflamed and compromised right along with his appendix and had now burst, spilling a damn of toxic emotions. Mac blinked up at Jack, rolling his head slightly. He felt hot and cold at the same time. "I can't let you go back there by yourself. No one's there to watch your back. What if my dad…"

"Kid…" Jack dropped his chin to his chest, looking as exhausted as Mac felt. When he met Mac's glazed gaze again, he shook his head. "I'm not going to Afghanistan. James would _never_ send me there now."

Mac understood what his partner did not say. The only place James was likely to ship him off to at this point was to a cell. The thought held no solace. On the contrary it only added to Mac's panic and agitation.

Jack kept talking, his attempt to allay Mac's concerns doing nothing but sweeping away the rest of his partner's hope that things would be okay for them, for their team-that they could soon simply go back to normal. Mac's optimism crumbled, along with his last shaky strongholds against the pain.

"I'm not going any damn where," Jack said. "Not with you sick. If James thinks he can order me off on another mission, he's wrong. I'd quit first."

"Wasn't that your plan all along?" Mac gasped, his breath coming in gulps now. He blinked sweat from his eyes, his vision wavering in and out of focus, knowing he was gripping Jack's arm and hand with a fierceness that had the other man wincing in pain, or, he thought, grimacing in the face of the truth. "You're leaving."

"I'm not leaving _you_ damn it." Jack growled, his voice angry in a different way now. "You and Phoenix are not intertwined, Angus. Watching out for you is my mission, brother, it has nothing to do with the damn job. You've never been a paycheck. You're family. Things may not always look the same on the outside, but it doesn't alter what we have."

The words, although buffering to Mac's mental defenses, giving him strength to push back against that awful voice in his head that said eventually everyone left him whether they were bound by blood or a much looser definition of relation, they did nothing to quench the fires of the physical assault Mac was enduring. He cried out against the latest strike, unable to stop from begging Jack to help him.

"I'm getting the damn doctor."

Mac didn't even protest when his partner wrenched away, already calling for Accola before he'd even managed to open the door.

RcJ

Jack found the doctor and James waiting, as if they were anticipating his actions or possibly considering ways to break down the door. He motioned Accola in, but grabbed James by the arm when he attempted to pass by as well.

"Say anything to make this worse for him and I will not think twice about ending you," Jack seethed lowly between clenched teeth. "We do this but we do it his way."

James stubbornly met his gaze, then glanced to Jack's fingers wrapped tightly around his upper arm. "Contrary to what you think, we're on the same side, Dalton."

Jack didn't even begin to point out the fallacies in that statement. He nodded to the empty waiting room, brows drawn together. "Where's Bozer?"

"I sent him to get the nurse at the spa." James moved his gaze to where Accola was leaned over assessing Mac. "I wasn't about to let my son die because you want to be his hero."

Jack grit his teeth to keep from lashing out as tempting as it was to erase that smug look from Oversight's face. Arguing with James would not help Mac, which was his only priority at this point. He glanced at the eldest MacGyver, wondering at the plan he'd been hatching to overpower him. Possibly with some homemade tear gas or an improvised weapon. After all, he was almost as brilliant and clever as his son. Jack let him come in only because with Bozer gone keeping an eye on him was safer than leaving him to his own devices.

"Just stay out of the way." He let the man go, turning to make his way back to the doctor.

"His fever is higher." Accola showed Jack the thermometer he'd just run across Mac's forehead. The number was alarming. "And as you can see the pain is not subsiding." He returned his focus to Mac, who seemed mostly out of it. Jack had gripped his hand again and was glad when his partner's fingers tightened around his proving he was hanging in there. "Are you willing to concede to the surgery, Angus?" Accola asked.

"Mac?" Jack rested his free hand on his partner's forehead, feeling the heat under his fingers. Mac had his eyes screwed tightly closed, trying to control his breathing. "You with us, bud? The doctor needs your consent."

The kid gave a tight little nod, his grip on Jack tightening fractionally.

"This surgery suite you mentioned." Jack looked at the doctor, eyes boring into Accola's. He frowned. "It's on site and you're equipped to handle this? You have oxygen? Anesthesia, the other things you'll need?" At this point he figured the answers to those questions didn't really matter as they had come to the place where Jack might have to reconcile with choking the kid out and letting a man he considered a murderer hack away on his best friend with a spork to save Mac's life.

"We're a rural clinic, Agent, not stuck in the middle ages." If Jack wasn't mistaken Accola actually rolled his eyes. "In this area where accidents tend to happen, whether those be on the ski slopes or numerous trails around us, it's not mere convenience to be equipped for such emergencies. I've been a doctor for more than thirty years, _renowned_ , I believe you called me earlier, so yes a simple appendectomy is most definitely in my skill set. Surgery is my wheelhouse as you might say." Accola raised a brow in challenge.

Jack deepened his frown, sending a quick glance to Mac when the kid groaned. "That didn't answer my damn question."

"I have the means to stabilize critical injuries for transport to Bern." Accola ran a hand over his beard, looking haggard and hungover when Jack only grew more frustrated and impatient for a simple yes or no. "Sometimes that requires surgery, setting of bones, and such. That mandates I have the supplies adequate for your friend's procedure, but if the appendix ruptures and more time is needed there may be a problem with the anesthesia supply."

"You mean he could wake up during the surgery?" Jack didn't miss that Mac's eyes now sprung open, his glassy blue gaze locked on Jack's face. Jack's own heart picked up its pace, thoughts of all that could go wrong hammering through his skull. He suddenly missed Phoenix medical, the staff there, albeit annoying at times, were always trustworthy.

"I'm confident he doesn't mean that, Jack." James interjected impatiently, and Jack shot him a glower that he hoped had his boss remembering the gag order he'd imposed upon his entry.

Accola waved a hand, shaking his head. "The worst case scenario would involve Angus not being deeply sedated throughout the procedure. This could cause some issues with his blood pressure and heartrate. I am not suggesting he will be awake, biting down on a strip of leather or some other farfetched apparatus while I do the surgery, like those ridiculous scenarios you Americans like to portray in your Western movies, yes."

"I prefer he not be even slightly conscious while you work on him. Do you have versed?" Jack said, not liking the way Accola was brushing off his concerns. "Ways to monitor his condition? Heartrate? Blood pressure?"

"Dalton." James spoke softly this time, although his frustration at Jack's doggedness was not hidden. "How about we concede to the man with the MD after his name."

"Shut up," Jack snarled. He took a short breath to calm himself when he felt Mac flinch at his outburst. Again, he realized he was probably overreacting, maybe even stalling as if some other solution might magically present itself and Mac wouldn't have to go under the knife. Hell, he'd performed what amounted to kitchen table surgery on the kid before, removing bullets, stitching him up, but this felt different. He was being backed into a corner and Jack hated feeling pressed, forced into capitulating to an option he would have never put on the table if given any choice.

"I have midazolam and means to monitor your young friend." Accola nodded, thoughtfully. His rheumy eyes met Jack's. "I know you might not believe this, but I also have every confidence he will be fine if we get started soon."

"I'm sorry if I have a hard time believing you." Jack pressed out, once more reverting back to brush a hand through Mac's sweaty hair.

"Under the circumstances and considering our past, I'd say that is understandable."

Jack glanced to James, trying to decipher if Oversight had told Accola about their history. But James seemed mildly surprised at the revelation.

"I remembered you as soon as you pointed the gun at me. You were with a team of special forces. Yes? It all came back," Accola explained, raising a brow. "Believe it or not, in all my years serving in that godforsaken desert, I only had a gun put to my head one time. That was curtesy of you."

"You refused to treat my men." Jack would not deny the accusation. He glanced at Accola. He was a man who when pushed resolved situations by any means necessary. Aggression was in his skillset. Violence was his wheelhouse.

"I refused to allow you in the hospital." Accola challenged, growing agitated and Jack noticed the slight quiver in the other man's hand. "For reasons I feel no need to go into at this point as nothing will change the outcome of those choices."

"My men died over there." Jack worked hard not to be drawn into the past, not when Mac needed him grounded in the present, but the old wounds easily reopened, as real and painful as the bullet score that throbbed at his shoulder currently.

"My son died there as well," Accola snapped and Mac flinched again. Jack glanced down to find his partner looking up at the doctor, but his gaze quickly shifted to him, deep furrows on his forehead.

"Jack?"

"It's okay, bud. Just take it easy." Jack ran a weary hand over his hair, feeling old all of the sudden.

"That is old news." The old man expelled a heavy sigh, rubbing at his eyes. "Many men and women died there. I can't change that. Neither can you. But if you allow I can save your friend, possibly even the senator's son if there is still time."

"I don't know what brought on this change of heart, but if anything happens to Mac, you won't have to worry about the reporter." Jack wanted to save the senator's son. He was wired to protect not only those closest to him, but the innocent in general. Maybe James was right and he did have some sort of hero complex, but it wasn't an ego issue as his boss might believe. It was a heart condition. Which is why although he felt for the young man being held in a foreign country on trumped up charges, likely being used as a political pawn no doubt, he would always put the person he loved most before any other. Mac was at the top of the hierarchy.

Accola held Jack's gaze, running a hand over his beard. "Then I suggest we get Angus into the surgery bay while I prepare everything we'll need. It's just across the hall."

The doctor had no more gotten the words out when from the other room Kepler began to bark and growl ferociously.

"I bet that's Wilt returning with the nurse." James started to step away, but faltered as he glanced to Mac, an unreadable expression crossing his face before it disappeared quickly into the more familiar stoic mask.

"It's good timing." Accola cut his gaze to Jack. "You'll be happy to know that before Silvan's obsession with homeopathy he was a pre-op nurse. He worked in Zurich and was renowned in his own right."

"Nothing about this makes me happy," Jack levered, but finally nodded to Accola who turned to go and greet his colleague. Jack imagined Silvan would also not be so ecstatic about being dragged from the warmth of the spa and out into the storm. When Accola had gone, he refocused on his partner though James still hovered nearby. "Did you hear that, bud? You're going to have twice the medical genius in your corner. Let's hope this Silvan is nicer than your favorite nurse back home."

"I'd still rather take my chances with the pain medicine," Mac confessed through gritted teeth, curling more into himself when it seemed another wave of pain hit. His tone held a hint of defeat and Jack cursed the kid's knack for shitty luck. "I'd even prefer Sally at this point," he added, pitifully, sounding all of ten.

"I hear you, partner." Jack squeezed his partner's shoulder, looking over to James, who was watching them. "You want to give me a hand getting him to the other room, Oversight, sir?"

He could have managed carrying the kid himself, but realized that it would possibly be easier on Mac if he allowed James to step in and assist in the transport as well. The irony was not lost on Jack, and if the gut-searing sensation he experienced when Oversight reached out to help Mac up from the table was any indication, Jack was looking at a long, painful road to acceptance. He quickly stepped in to take one of his partner's arm, garnering some satisfaction when the kid leaned against him and away from James, who'd spent years shirking such duty. Mac didn't even look at his father. The satisfaction Jack gleaned was probably petty as hell and would undoubtedly cost him later, but he figured he'd earned the right to gloat a little and gladly took more than his share of Mac's weight, not at all cumbered by the heaviness of his brother.

RcJ

"What's taking so long?" Bozer asked, his gaze going to the lone clock on the wall before focusing back on the other two men in the room.

Jack shot his young teammate a frown, even though he perfectly understood Bozer's worry. His eyes briefly slid to the clock even if he knew better than to watch time, aware of the tricks it could play on a man. It had been almost an hour since Accola had sent Jack from the operating suite, 47 minutes to be exact since Mac's hand had went slack, his eyes slipping closed from the drugs Silvan had administered. Accola had promised the procedure was simple and should be over quickly if there were no complications. Jack hadn't been able to think of much else over the past 2,820 seconds except for his best friend's aptitude for complications.

"I'm sure they'll be out to tell us something soon," James spoke up from his position by the window. He'd alternated his time checking the storm, which had mercifully lessened, with trying to get a signal on the satellite phone.

Jack raked a hand through his hair, not adding his two cents. He leaned forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees to suppress the jittering he felt. If they'd been in a regular hospital he'd probably have been pacing. Riley called it his caged tiger strut. But here Jack felt confined, not used to James being present or having his best friend being worked on by the enemy. He'd thought about bullying his way into staying present during the operation, to keep his post as Overwatch through the entire procedure, but understood that Silvan's protests about contamination were valid. They didn't need one more person exposing the kid to any germs. Still, it was hard stepping away, even as Jack realized it was only the first of many times when he was going to have to let go, and trust the kid to be watched over by others.

"Appendectomies happen all the time, right?" Bozer continued chatting and Jack wasn't sure if he was talking to Kepler, who was laying in his lap sound asleep or maybe to himself. It should have been obvious that no one else was in the mood for more of his ramblings about the intricacy of certain medical procedures. Of course Bozer could talk for hours about preparing pastrami. His fingers kept a steady pace through the dog's soft fur. "I mean, I think I had my appendix out when I was like six. My dad joked he could have just done it at home and saved us a lot of money but my mom wouldn't let him dirty up her prized sheets."

"Angus had his tonsils out when he was six," James spoke up although his eyes stayed locked on whatever he was looking at through the frost covered window. "Even Harry's promises of all the ice cream he could eat afterward did not sway his protests to stepping foot into that hospital."

"I guess some things never change," Bozer said lightly, scratching Kepler's ear. He glanced at James. "What'd you finally do to convince him it would be okay?"

"He was six," James said simply, turning now to frown at Bozer, clearly not understanding the question. "There was no need to have a conversation about the pros and cons. I simply did what I knew to be best."

"Some things really never do change." Jack muttered, his mind conjuring unwanted images of his best friend at six, not understanding what was happening, probably terrified to go into a place where he'd watched his mother die not long before.

"You'd have handled it differently I suppose." James stepped away from the window and Jack saw out of the corner of his eye that Bozer had tensed, drawing Kepler closer to him. He made a point of staying calm as he regarded James.

"I've never had a child so I can't say for sure what I'd have done." Jack folded his hands together, studying them for a moment as he attempted to reel in his temper that wanted to flare. When he lifted his eyes to James, he kept his face unreadable. "I do know that some empathy goes a long way."

"Don't you mean indulgence?" James shot back, not even bothering to conceal the edge to his tone.

"I don't indulge Mac." Worry and weariness was adding fuel to the fire Jack was trying to keep to a subtle smolder.

James laughed, though it held no hint of humor. He stared Jack down. "I beg to differ. You cater to his every whim. If I had been made aware you were such a push over I'd never considered you for his overwatch."

"See I think you've mistaken indulgence for respect." Jack pushed himself up from the couch, making it slowly to his feet. His shoulder pulsed with his heightened heart rate, the dried fabric pulling with the movement. How could a man so smart also be so blind? "I respect Mac enough to listen to what he has to say, I care about what he wants even if I don't always agree that it's in his best interest."

"Like how you listened to him when he became involved with Nikki Carpenter. Or when you let him go after Murdoc? Or the countless other bad decisions that almost got him killed."

"Those were his choices to make, James." Jack grit his teeth, his fingers curling into fists, understanding the man knew exactly what buttons to push, all the soft spots in Jack's armor. Jack had always felt a bit uneasy about Nikki's influence over his partner, the way her pretty smile could cover a multitude of sins. At times he'd been just as charmed and he didn't have the added aphrodisiac of sex and first true love added to the mix. From angel to devil, Murdoc would always be a thorn in Jack's psyche. Starting with that first missed opportunity to put the psychopath down, to the last when he'd let Matty bargain with the bastard once again for a stay at their super max facility.

"That's an easy way of brushing off responsibility for your mistakes." James glanced to the hallway. "Your desire to follow along with whatever Angus wants could have cost him his life this time." His dark gaze locked on Jack, voice cold. "Instead, it cost you something more."

"Nothing means more to me than Mac's wellbeing. Nothing. Just because I wasn't willing to run roughshod over him, doesn't mean I didn't understand what had to be done." He reminded himself to stay calm as punching James in the face wouldn't help them at all. "I knew Mac understood as well. There was no choice in whether he had to have the surgery. It was clear enough even a small child could comprehend."

Jack made sure that point stuck. He could easily envision that his partner at six would have understood the need to take his tonsils out as well, and that an explanation and reasoning was the last thing he was looking for as he bucked the procedure. Even if he'd not wanted to do it, love and compassion would have gone a hell of a long way in assuring him why it was necessary. Jack had no doubt that James for some reason wasn't capable, or possibly wasn't willing to provide such, whether he saw it as a weakness or an undermining Jack wasn't sure. But having come up against the man's arrogance, he imagined Harry hadn't been given the opportunity to offer such to his grandson either. Not for the first time, Jack understood James leaving Mac behind was quite possibly a blessing in disguise.

"Hey guys, how about we just go back to simply waiting in awkward silence," Bozer chimed in, placing Kepler on the chair and making his way to standing. He looked from Oversight to Jack. "Because while that sucked, it was way better than this. All that's missing is the strange music from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly and some tumbleweed."

Jack and James were both spared backing down as their standoff was interrupted by the sound of a door opening in the back. Accola quickly appeared, holding up a hand to ward them off when all three men stepped forward.

"Angus is fine. The procedure went well, although the appendix ruptured as we were removing it."

"Will that cause post op issues?" James asked before Jack could.

"We cleared the infection, and have started him on some intravenous antibiotics. I believe Angus will recover fine." Accola ran a hand over his beard.

"Can we see him?" Jack moved towards the hallway.

"While we have no formal recovery room, Silvan will be monitoring him for the time being." Accola gestured to Jack. "Which should give us just enough time for me to fulfill the promise I made to treat your shoulder."

Jack rolled his eyes, recalling Mac's last demand before going under. He'd exacted a vow from Jack and Accola that the doctor would treat his reopened wound.

"I don't see you as one to break your word," Accola lifted a brow and Jack swore. The last thing he wanted was an up close and personal with the old man, but the doctor was right. He didn't lie to Mac.

"Fine." He'd followed the doctor only after sharing a glance with Bozer. James had already gone back to fiddling with the satellite phone. "Come get me if anything changes."

He trusted Bozer to understand Jack was referring to Mac, but also to their boss. Jack didn't want to be taken care of by Accola, but he also didn't want to turn his back on James.

"If you'll remove your shirt," Accola said brusquely, waving a hand towards the table as he shuffled over to the cabinet on the other side of the room.

"I make most people buy me dinner first," Jack grumbled as he carefully slid out of the heat gear, wincing when it stuck to the wound and pulled.

"I have some lollipops for the children if that might suffice." Accola continued to gather his supplies and Jack was glad the old man wasn't looking when his mouth actually tipped up in a reluctant smile. In another time he might have actually liked the doctor.

"Speaking of kids," He cleared his throat, feeling a trickle of blood slowly making it down his arm where the stuck material had reopened the wound. "Mac really did okay?"

"He was the model patient." Accola pulled a silver rolling tray piled with bandages and wrapped instruments over to the table with him, gesturing for Jack to sit.

Jack snorted. "Now _that's_ not something I'm used to hearing any medical professional say about my partner."

"I'm sure when he comes to it will be a different story but he did fine in the surgery." Accola had at some point put on a pair of glasses, possibly before the surgery and they now slid down his nose so that he was staring at Jack over the wire rims as he snapped on a pair of gloves. He really did look like Santa and Jack found the illusion disconcerting as it was hard to hold a grudge against St. Nick. "I expect him to make a full, quick recovery. He is young and in exceptional condition."

"When can he be moved?" Jack flexed his fingers to ease the renewed throbbing.

"I would like to keep him here on the IV for a few hours, at least until he's awake, but I suggest a transport to the hospital as soon as is possible where he can be monitored a couple of days." Accola used alcohol wipes to clean the dried and fresh blood from Jack's shoulder. Jack drew in a breath as the antiseptic soaked cloth was drug over the wound. "Do not look so concerned. He will be home in time for Christmas. He's dehydrated and the risk of infection is possible but as I said before I'm not anticipating any complications."

"Thank you," Jack watched as the doctor tossed the soiled pads aside. Accola held his gaze for only a moment before turning his attention to the wound. "For saving Mac," Jack added, quickly. "I owe you."

"I treated your young friend because I took an oath when I became a doctor." Accola prodded the wound gently, turning his head slightly to study it before going back to the counter. He reached into the cabinet above it, withdrawing more supplies. "I know you don't understand, but it's one I have always tried to fulfill to the best of my ability."

"Maybe we should just agree to disagree about what constitutes your best." Jack rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. Now that the immediate threat was taken care of he felt his exhaustion return with a vengeance. He really didn't have it in him to maintain any real anger towards Accola at this point. He almost felt sorry for him.

"It seems you have another enemy with whom to contend." Accola briefly looked over his shoulder, his eyes meeting Jack's.

"You mean James?" Jack glanced towards the door, imagining Oversight on the other side plotting his demise. He'd never considered the man a friend that was for sure, although he'd held some hopes that they might someday be just that, maybe even family, for Mac's benefit if nothing else. Sometimes families didn't get along, hell, sometimes they didn't even like each other. But enemy was a strong word weighted with intention.

"He is your superior, no?" When the doctor returned, he held out a package of butterfly bandages. "I think these will suffice. Some of the sutures maintained their integrity. I just need to clean it up first."

Jack nodded for the doctor to do what he needed to do. He gripped the edge of the table. "I'm under his command-technically."

Accola raised a brow. "You strike me as a man who follows the chain of command."

"I have a great respect for those under my leadership as well as those who hand down the orders." Jack held his breath as Acolla used more antiseptic to clean out the hole in his shoulder before applying a generous amount of antibiotic cream to the wound. Whether the doctor was clicking his tongue at the mess Jack had managed to make of the last doctor's work or over his disbelief of what Jack was saying, he wasn't sure. "In most cases," He was quick to add.

"It's always easier to take orders from someone you hold in esteem." Accola glanced up from what he was doing. There was a hint of something Jack had not noticed before in his blue gaze-amusement. "I am thinking it is fortunate that you held much higher regard for your commander back in Afghanistan. He ordered you not to kill me and you listened. If this James had been there, I daresay we would not be having this conversation."

 _Hammond._ Jack's mouth twitched at the memory. He would march into Hell for Perseus Hammond. He could not same the same for Oversight. "James is good at what he does. I respect his professional ability and typically have no problem doing what he tells me."

Accola looked thoughtful once again, before going back to treating Jack's shoulder. "My grandfather had a saying," He spoke casually, working with quick sure movements. "It was something along the lines of a wise man never interrupts an enemy when he is making a mistake."

Jack gave a light laugh at the veiled suggestion. Even Accola, a stranger, could see that James was screwing up his relationship with his kid. "That might be good advice, except for when that mistake could hurt someone."

"Young Angus for instance." Accola briefly glanced up knowingly. "He seems like a fine young man."

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling as Accola manipulated the edges of the wound together to apply the butterfly sutures. He could have easily said that James had made a lifetime of mistakes with Mac, but instead he merely nodded his head. "Yeah. The kid is amazing."

"Then perhaps where this James is concerned you should embrace the words of Winston Churchill." Accola finished off the last bandage and stepped back. He peeled off his gloves and tossed them into the trash before meeting Jack's gaze. "You have enemies? Good. That means you stood up for something important sometime in your life."

Jack felt a chill race down his spine. The gooseflesh that rose on his arms was a reaction that had nothing to do with the fact he was shirtless and it was still chilled in the examination room, but because the quote that Accola had just recited was one of Jack's father's favorites. He'd used it time and again when Jack had faced some backlash for taking a stand against one wrong or another.

It was just like Jack's old man to find a way to reach out to him when his son was desperate for some sign he hadn't somehow screwed up in a major way. Not that Jack would ever regret taking up for Mac, but in this instance he feared he'd ruined any chance for continuing to watch the kid's back by pushing James MacGyver one step too far. As usual, Jack's father's timing was perfect, the pilot having always had a keen insight into when the shit was about to hit the fan- because Keplars' sharp barking suddenly erupted from the other room. It was joined by the distinct sound of the front door being opened, then muffled voices. Jack stood, and was pulling his dirty shirt over his head when Bozer called out.

"Jack. You need to get out here. Now."

Jack jerked his shirt down, sliding his gun from its holster. He ordered Accola to stay put as he carefully opened the door and glanced out into the main room of the clinic. Jack wasn't sure what he expected to find, but Deac Landry and several other tactical agents from Phoenix was a surprise. Even more shocking was the team of Austrian Special Operations Forces that accompanied them.

"What the hell?" Jack frowned as he took in the familiar insignia of the elite division of the Austrian Army, lowering his gun as Landry tugged his face shield off and a shit eating grin appeared.

"It's good to see you, too, Tombstone." Landry stepped forward to bump fists with Jack who was still a bit stunned by his appearance and the extra backup. "Director Weber called in some favors when we lost contact with your team hours ago," Landry explained, gesturing to James who was now engaged with one of the Austrians. "Hammond responded to the distress call, like freaking Chief Gordon, figuring you and The Boy Wonder had run into the usual trouble. Lucky for us a team of Jagdkommando was just hanging out in Wiener Neustadt. They let us borrow their Blackhawks and insisted on helping out an old friend."

"Of course we use that term loosely. Friend, that is." A big man with a heavy accent and a wide smile separated himself from his fellow Austrian soldiers. "I told Landry I met you when I come to train with the Army Rangers and you were there as an expert consultant." The big man gestured to Jack's bloodstained shirt. "For a legend behind the scope, you sure do end up being shot-a lot."

"Hans Gruber." Jack shook his head, grinning. "As I live and breathe." The greeting earned some chuckles from the other Austrians as their teammate's actual name was Nico Gruber. But for Jack, Nico's misfortunate last name had immediately conjured images of the legendary bad guy from Die Hard and Jack had tagged him with the handle 'Hans'.

"I believe the last time our paths crossed in Kabul you were also bleeding." Gruber reached out his hand. "Some things never change."

Jack reached out and gripped Gruber's forearm, retuning the grin. "It's been a long time, brother. Thanks for the assist."

"I'd like to say we came just to assist you, Dalton, but that wouldn't be entirely true."

"You're here for Accola." Jack wagered, not surprised at all. "Hammond always was a strategic genius."

"Wilt, would you go ask the doctor to join us?" James interrupted before Nico could respond. "He'll be going with Commander Steiner and his men."

Bozer shared a look with Jack but did as Oversight asked.

"Where's Shepherd?" Landry asked, glancing around the room. "Is he with Accola?"

" _Agent MacGyver_ is recovering from surgery," James interjected, his gaze locking with Landry's making sure the other man understood the correction. "Commander Steiner and his men are going to transport him to Bern immediately."

" _After_ he's awake," Jack spoke up, proving he was just as capable of reframing. He moved his gaze to Accola who had entered the room escorted by Bozer. Kepler ran to greet his master and the doctor bent down to scoop up the small dog. Jack felt Landry's questioning eyes on him. "The doctor…"

"Is not in charge here," James finished sharply, smugness on his face. "Neither are you, Agent Dalton. Before you once more point out your position as Angus's power of attorney let me assure you that the fact you're about to be taken into custody ensures that my son will need someone else to oversee his medical decisions from here on out. That person will be me."

"You sonofa…" Jack swallowed his words as he saw Landry shift, the other men tensing as they sensed something was off with the Phoenix team.

Landry looked particularly wary. "Jack?"

"Agent Landry, I need you to take Agent Dalton's weapon and put him in restraints."

"Come on, James…" Bozer started only to have his protest cut off by the glower Oversight sent his way.

"What's this about?" Landry asked in the sudden silence, frowning.

"This is about Jack Dalton holding me, Agent Bozer and Dr. Reuben Accola at gunpoint. He threatened bodily harm and assaulted me in the process." James's cold eyes briefly met Jack's, he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I for one did not feel threatened, nothing like the last time this man put a gun to my head." Accola spoke up, gesturing to Jack with his free hand. Jack thought it might have been in his defense but wasn't sure it came out that way.

"He was never going to shoot us," Bozer tried as well, sounding a little panicked. When all eyes went to him he added, "It was just what Mac calls one of his 'Hulk-out' moments. He didn't even punch Oversight this time, only shoved him."

"Perhaps we should not try to help," Accola whispered gently when the others in the room dropped their gazes.

"Agent Dalton is in direct dereliction of duty," James picked up, ignoring everything Bozer and Accola had offered. Jack was certain the man's eyes were gleaming with satisfaction at having Bozer and the doctor unwittingly collaborate his story in front of so many witnesses. "There's no room for debate here. He will most certainly be brought up on further charges after my full action report."

"Like I said, some things never change," Jack heard Gruber mutter as he took a step back to rejoin his own team and remove himself from the scene taking place with the crazy Americans.

"But, sir," Landry said, his gaze flicking from Jack's back to James's, jaw working.

"Do you have a problem with following orders as well, Agent Landry? Is this a 'Delta' thing?"

Jack gave a quick shake of his head when Deacon looked his way once more, anger easily read in his dark gaze. He needed someone at Phoenix he could trust completely, someone who had a gun and could watch his team's backs, and that would not happen if Landry got himself booted out or brought up on charges right along with Jack.

"No, sir," Landry finally conceded, facing Oversight. "I work for Phoenix. You're in charge of Phoenix."

"Good. I'm glad we're clear on that. You'll be accompanying the separate transport to take Dalton back to Zurich. Immediately. Director Weber will meet you there."

"Yes, sir." Landry stepped forward relieving Jack of his gun. Jack appreciated the fact he did it himself instead of asking any of the other Phoenix agents to do it. "Sorry, Tombstone," Landry said under his breath and Jack held his hands out in front of him.

"Where's your coat, man?" Landry asked, the gentle concern in his voice only for Jack's ears, but protection from the weather was the last thing on Jack's mind.

"At least let me see Mac." Jack turned a pleading gaze to James, panic overtaking anger for the moment. Jack was a proud man, but he wasn't above asking James for one last favor. He lowered his voice. "He won't understand if I'm not here."

"I'll be sure and explain," James bit out, no hint of consideration in his tone. Jack had wondered what James would use as his Ace in the hole, and he'd played it so well. Jack could easily see the cold satisfaction in Oversight's gaze. He had found a way to have Jack removed from the picture permanently-a way Jack had afforded him.

"Here's his coat and gloves." Bozer had retrieved Jack's things from the examination room and now held them out to Landry. Jack knew his teammate was staring at him, trying to get his attention but he continued to stare at James.

"I'm his partner."

Jack knew exactly what James was going to say as soon as Oversight's eyes darkened with a familiar stubbornness.

"I. Don't. Care."

Jack looked away, but then lunged at the other man. The fact the bastard had tossed his own words back at him as combustible as throwing kerosene on a campfire.

"Damn it, Tombstone!" Landry grabbed hold of him, putting himself between Jack and James. He shoved his former Delta teammate back forcefully. "Back off."

Other hands latched onto him, preventing him from charging again. "Listen to him, Dalton," Nico ordered. "Stand down, man."

"Jack!" Bozer snapped. "Stop. You're making it worse." He lowered his voice, rapping a hand in Jack's shirt. "You're doing exactly what he wants you to do. Making sure Mac won't see you anytime soon."

The truth pierced through Jack's anger fueled haze and he stood panting, staring at Bozer. It felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, about to tumble over, free falling. A part of him had known that there would be consequences, but he hadn't expected it to end like this. "But…"

"Get him out of here," James ordered.

"Here," Bozer pushed Jack's coat at him, his hat and gloves to. "You'll need these."

"Stay with him, Boze." Jack gripped the jacket, his eyes locking with Bozer's. "No matter what, you stay with Mac. You hear me."

"I hear you, Jack." Bozer squeezed his arm and then stepped back, uncertainty and something else in his eyes. "I hear you."

"I will remain with my patient as well," Accola chimed in. "I will see to his care until we are in Bern."

Jack didn't even dare look at James as he was led away, but he did glance over his shoulder to meet Accola's gaze before crossing through the door into the fury of the storm. The doctor met his glance with a nod, even giving a small, smart, salute. Another quote came to Jack. Not one from his father, but one his Nana Beth had shared.

 _"The only sure fire way to best an enemy, Wyatt is to make him your friend."_

As Jack stepped into the blinding snow he considered two things. Dr. Accola might no longer be his enemy, and James MacGyver would never be his friend.

To be continued…


	7. Chapter 7

Let's Be Enemies

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Wow. I can't believe Jack is gone. From the show, that is. It's still hard to reconcile, but I hope this chapter helps us miss him a little less tonight. One more chapter to go. There will quite possibly also be an epilogue. This of course is only one version of how Jack could depart compared to his reasons for leaving in cannon. I couldn't bear to kill him off, and I couldn't let him leave Mac because I don't see anything short of death or incarceration forcing him to do that. I can't wait to see what other writers come up with. As for the new character, it remains to be seen how or if she will factor into this AU version. Enjoy! Thanks to Mary, as always.

RcJ

"Matty, thank God. How's Mac?"

Jack Dalton had not seen one single person, sans the guard who'd brought him regular meals in at least thirty-six hours, maybe more. He'd lost track of time, his facial hair trick not as effective when he'd gone days without shaving even before he'd been thrown in the brink. So even Matilda Weber with war in her eyes and the threat of holy damnation vibrating in each determined step was a welcomed sight.

"What the hell were you thinking, Jack?" Matty slammed her hand on the table that separated them, the one Jack was currently shackled to. This was already shaping up to be far worse than their last interrogation session when Matty had demanded to know if Jack had broken into her apartment because now Jack was not only wearing metal bracelets but was sporting a putrid orange jumpsuit and paper shoes. His old friend didn't seem to hold any sympathy for his situation. "Pointing your gun at Oversight! And Bozer! Are you completely off your rocker?"

"I wasn't aiming at Bozer," Jack defended, leaning forward so his elbows were on the table. He was pissed that James had not only managed to squirrel him away in a holding facility in Zurich but that he'd not allowed him any communication. Not one single word about Mac. "And I asked you a question, Matilda!"

"You don't get to ask the questions, Dalton!" Her words were just as sharp as his, but Jack recognized the flash of something besides anger in her dark gaze. She took the seat in front of him. Frowning. "Blondie is fine," she growled. "When I left the hospital this morning he was itching to be released."

"After so short of a stay. Is that normal?" Jack wracked his brain, trying to remember how long Thornton had stayed under medical care after her appendectomy. He was certain it was more than a day.

"He's stayed two full days, which is one day longer than I expected considering the situation and how your partner doesn't ever do anything the 'normal' way." She made air quotes when she spat the word 'normal' as if it wasn't in Mac's vocabulary.

"Damn." Jack ran a hand over his mouth, unable to reach his hair due to the short length of chain connecting him to the table. "It's been longer than I thought. Is he really okay?"

"Physically he's on the mend. You know, Mac." Matty held his gaze.

"I do know him, which is why I've been nearly out of my mind with worry." Jack understood better than anyone how his partner's brain worked. When Jack wasn't there when he woke up, Mac would have assumed the worst. Even if Bozer explained, the kid would have found a way to twist things so that he blamed himself self somehow for the mess Jack had created.

"From what I understand things did not go well when he first came to," Matty hedged. "Bozer and Dr. Accola handled it, although Mac insisted on being brought to Zurich instead of taken to the closer hospital in Bern."

"You're not giving me the warm and fuzzies here, Matty." Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting off images from the numerous worst case scenarios he'd run through during his time in solitary. He trusted Bozer and had developed a begrudging respect for Accola but still flashes of his partner, hurt and his typical stalwart defenses diminished by medicinal machinations left Jack reeling with deep regret and burdened with the part he played that kept him from being there when Mac needed him. Even worse, he worried it was only a portent of what was to come.

"Jack," Matty breathed, her hand actually snaked out and hovered over his for just a moment, unsure. When Jack looked at her, she removed it quickly, which he appreciated because he had a feeling a rare display of emotion from his ball buster boss might just be the thing to unravel him completely. She did pull a softer expression that had Jack's gut knotting. "He's fine. I promise. He's still battling a fever but they said with his situation that was to be expected."

"That's good." Jack's voice broke slightly and he shook his head. Exhaustion was tugging at him, keeping his emotions on the surface. He'd not managed much sleep in the days since he'd been brought to Zurich, at least not any rest that wasn't plagued by nightmares. Dreams that had Mac's face morphing with the soldiers Jack had lost in battle. Ones where memories were twisted and Jack didn't' make shots that had kept the kid alive and instead had Mac bleeding out in the damn desert. Taunts of Murdoc doing terrible things to the kid, while Jack watched from behind bars he couldn't escape.

"I'm sorry you weren't updated about his condition sooner." Matty's voice broke into his dark thoughts, her frown growing when Jack blinked, giving what he imagined was a bleary-eyed, shell-shocked look. "That was not my idea, and wasn't one I supported."

"James wanted to keep me in the dark." Jack figured that Oversight was getting some sort of pleasure out of withholding the information he would obviously know Jack was anxious to have. It was yet another move in their never ending school yard pissing contest, a counter move in the on-going chess game they had going. Jack had grown quite tired of the manipulation and subversive strategy. Especially when he could see it was taking a toll on his kid.

"Oversight is not happy with how you handled the situation."

Jack laughed. "Damn, Matilda. I'm not happy with how James has handled the last fifteen years. But you don't see me with my boot on his throat."

"No, but from what I understand your gun _was_ pressed against his skull." Her face grew serious once more, a hint of the earlier anger returning along with genuine dismay. "Assault, Jack? Really?"

"It wasn't that dramatic." Jack fisted his hands on the table, the bite of the cuffs a very tangible reminder of what he had done. "I did a hell of a lot worse in Peru."

"When you were under the influence of a very powerful drug, Jack. A drug James helped create. It wasn't like he could hold you at fault then." Matty looked away for a moment and Jack could tell she was struggling to keep her own emotions in check. She returned her focus to him, her gaze unblinking. "Did you, or did you not threaten to shoot him?"

"I did."

She leaned closer, one brow lifting marginally. "Were there unique circumstances of which I'm not aware? I understand you'd just trudged miles carrying Mac on your back. It was freezing out there. And you are still recovering from a recent GSW from your latest mission."

"Do you mean was I drugged out of my mind with painkillers or suffering from hypothermia?"

"Both of those conditions would explain irrational behavior." Matty kept her tone in check, but Jack understood he was being led, offered a possible way out. "Or perhaps you were suffering from a flashback, an irrational moment brought on by the stress of the situation…."

"Shit, Matty," Jack knocked his fists against the table, both appreciative of her gesture, but also insulted by the insinuation. "You and I both know I've had my PTSD under control for years."

"Doesn't mean you couldn't have a relapse." Matty snarled, just as frustrated that Jack wasn't picking up on the breadcrumbs she was offering.

"I'm not going there." Jack would not use his service to his country as an excuse for crossing the line with James. The days he'd battled those demons had been dark, and without Freddie's help and a good support system he might have ended up in jail a long damn time ago, or in the graveyard alongside his dad. Perhaps even by his own hand. He also wouldn't pull the 'crazed vet' card and tarnish the image of men and women who having endured episodes of trauma so great sometimes teetered on the edge of rationality, overcome by anxiety and other illnesses born of their time under extreme stress and hyper awareness.

"Fine." Matty gave him a disappointed glare. "Then you're willing to accept the consequences of your actions."

Jack shrugged, unwilling to back down. "As long as I get to see Mac and call my grandparents and sister before I'm shipped off to a Super Max or wherever Oversight locked Thornton and Murdoc away, then I guess that's exactly what I'm saying."

"You're not going to jail, Jack." Matty rolled her eyes as if he were being ridiculous.

"Forgive me if the last couple of days hasn't lead me to believe that is a definite possibility. There's also the part where James pretty much promised to see me convicted in a court of my peers."

"James has conceded that maybe he was overzealous in the charges he wanted to bring and has agreed to drop them." Matty shifted in her seat and Jack perked up. It was an old tell that she was sitting on a bit of information she didn't want to reveal.

He frowned. "That sounds nothing like the James MacGyver I've come to know and loathe. Why do I feel a giant but attached to the end?"

"Because," Matty hesitated slightly. Her voice lowered and she couldn't mask the regret in her tone. "You're finished at Phoenix. Nothing I nor Mac said could convince James to allow you back on the team. He has pull with the CIA and FBI as you're well aware. You'll most likely be untouchable in the spy game, Jack."

"No big surprise there, Matilda," Jack snorted. In truth, he might have held a tiny glimmer of hope that he'd still be allowed to be the kid's overwatch but that was about as likely as James suddenly stepping down as Oversight and retiring to some remote region of Fiji, forfeiting all rights to Phoenix and more importantly to his son. It wasn't like he'd ever consider going back to The Farm or working for the Fibbies. "Besides, I've always been more G.I. Joe than James Bond." He winked at Matty. "Honestly, darlin', I'm more shocked about the whole not serving time part."

"You have your partner to thank for that," Matty replied, dryly, rolling her eyes at his attempts at being cavalier and typically roguish. "Baby Einstein insisted that any and all charges be dropped and cleared from your service record. And that if you left the foundation, you left with a severance package and an official glowing accommodation for time served at DXS and Phoenix."

"And what the hell did that cost him?" Nonchalance was replaced by a sudden chill that crawled up Jack's spine dragging a quake of dread with it, a malice that spread throughout his body. His fists clenched tighter and every muscle tensed as if he were about to be attacked.

"A year."

"Come again?" Jack furrowed his brow, not understanding what Matty meant.

"MacGyver has to stay at Phoenix for at least a year, serving in the same capacity he has since he joined DXS."

"No way! That's bullshit and freaking blackmail and you know it Matty." It wasn't like Jack wanted the kid to walk away from Phoenix. On the contrary, he believed Mac belonged doing the kind of work they'd been doing for the last five years. But he also believed his partner had the right to choose whether or not he decided to stay on the job. Jack sure as hell didn't want to be the reason he was forced to comply.

"It's negotiations, Jack. Very similar to the negotiation I believe you took part in when you got both you and Mac out of Afghanistan. All those missions you pulled for Joint Forces to ensure his safe delivery from the war took far longer than a year to complete and I have no doubt they were a lot messier than any Mac will be asked to undertake in the line of duty. James isn't going to employ his son to assassinate anyone."

"Still, I made that decision willingly…" Jack would gladly do it again.

"As did Mac," Matty shook her head. "He's not a kid, Dalton. I was there when he went head to head with James. Even from his hospital bed he was a formidable and a bit scary, going to bat for you even when James played dirty. Don't take that victory away from him." She placed a hand on his arm, her voice softening. "Don't take Mac away from Phoenix. You know he belongs there. James MacGyver as Oversight or not."

"But I won't be there to watch his six." It was the sticking point. The one that had tripped Jack up over and over since James revealed himself and returned to establish his place as Mac's parent. Jack could find no way to stay the kid's partner and not go head to head with the kid's daddy.

"Not in the field, per say, but I know you well enough to know there's nothing short of death," she stared pointedly at the shackles on Jack's wrist, "Or misfortunate circumstances, that would keep you out of his life."

"Either I let him go, or I go to jail. Is that it?" Jack growled. James was still in control of the damn board. "James wins either way." More importantly, Mac would lose.

"No. Either you stand by Mac's decision or _you_ undermine him and underestimate him in the same way his pompous father tends to do."

The words stung. Jack felt a bit like Matty had reached out and punched him, or maybe given his ear a heck of a good twist like Nana Beth had been known to do from time to time when Jack was being a hard-headed, near-sighted fool.

"Point taken," he said, finally, with a huff of breath. Good intentions or not, he was poised to hurt his best friend in the same way that James had done, but Jack would be damned if he'd fail Mac in such a way. He would intentionally choose a different path, even if it seemingly took him away from the kid.

Matty raised a brow. "You know I'm on your side. I'll make sure Baby Einstein is always protected on my watch."

Jack met her gaze, his mouth twitching with the first glimmer of hope he'd felt in a while. "You'll let me pick my replacement? Someone I trust?" Jack had a few ideas bouncing around in his head already. People who owed Jack a great debt and ones James had no hold over. One in particular might be just the ticket.

"Officially, _I'll_ be the one picking the boy genius's back-up, but there's nothing that says I can't consult knowledgeable and reputable sources while making that decision."

"Probably more knowledgeable than reputable in this case." Jack's mouth twisted into a full on grin, one which he was unable to hold as the recurring thought that had beleaguered him for months once more loomed like a dark cloud. "I don't trust James not to screw him over, Matty."

"James can be…hard to understand." Matty paused and Jack knew she was choosing her next words carefully. He had no doubt she was in his corner, but he also understood she was loyal to Oversight for reasons he might never fully know. Wookie life debts were complicated beasts. "But one thing I have never doubted is that he loves his son." She held up a quick hand when Jack opened his mouth to contradict her. "I know it may not look like how _you_ love him, Jack, but I can assure you he does indeed care a great deal for Mac. James isn't always right but he does believe he's doing what's in his son's best interest."

Jack finally gave a sharp nod. "I hope to hell you're right."

" _I_ usually am." Matty smirked and before Jack could point out several times that he knew in fact that she hadn't been anywhere close to right, she stood. "Now are you ready to get out of here or what? We're wheels up in twenty."

RcJ

"I told you we should have just waited on the plane," Riley hissed at Bozer. Mac didn't shift his eyes from the door he was watching to look at his teammates, but he could hear them loud and clear, although Riley was attempting some semblance of a whisper.

"You told me!" Bozer returned just as snippily, and without looking Mac knew his roommate was waving his arms in his direction. "Maybe you should have tried telling _him_."

Mac could feel both their gazes boring into him now and despite experiencing a slight wave of guilt he didn't even turn to acknowledge their stares. They had both been at the hospital with him the last two days and although he appreciated their tireless efforts to take care of him and no doubt somehow fill Jack's shoes, he was not going back to the plane or to LA without his partner. Mac shifted, feeling the uncomfortable pull of stitches in his side.

"He never listens to me." Riley said and her voice was both exasperated and resigned.

"And that's different for me how?" Bozer inquired, clearly not happy.

"You've known him longer."

"Which only means he has had years of practice at dodging my suggestions, creatively twisting promises so that he still does exactly what he wants even though he makes it sound like he's taking my advice to heart." Mac imagined Bozer rolling his eyes dramatically. "Do you think I was happy when he decided to join the Army and defuse bombs for a living? By the time it was all said and done, Mac made it seem like it might have even been my idea."

If Mac had been in possession of the extra energy to insert his version of that story, he would have assured Riley that he had in no way manipulated his oldest friend, but had merely spared his feelings by avoiding an outright dismissal of Bozer's concerns. As it was, Mac was utilizing all his reserves to stay upright in his chair and maintain the image that he was completely well enough to be out of the hospital and out and about. He felt a slight shiver run through him, resisting the urge to pull his jacket tighter around himself. Truthfully, Mac was pretty sure he should be flat on his back in the hospital. He waned quickly a few hours after signing himself out AMA. Even if he hadn't been lulled into thinking he was stronger than he was by the fact he'd managed an unassisted shower and a walk down the hall, as well as eating most of his breakfast, he'd still insisted on being released.

"Well, I'd make it clear to Jack that this was definitely _not_ your idea if you know what's good for you."

"What's he going to do, shoot me?" Bozer quipped and Mac could tell from Riley's silence that she was probably giving a look that conveyed just what Mac had been thinking. The joke was too soon.

"Just remember it's every agent for themselves when the old man gets a look at pale face over there," She finally said and Mac heard Bozer sigh, could practically sense his roommate's slouching into the chair to make himself a smaller target.

Mac did not take the bait to refute his poor condition or her insinuation that they would bear the brunt of Jack's worry, knowing that Riley probably wasn't exaggerating his gray pallor and that his partner would indeed be pissed that Mac had showed up instead of following the instructions Matty had given Riley and Bozer for them all to wait at the plane. He felt like he'd run one of the marathons Jack was always accusing him of completing on a daily basis and he'd only walked from the rental car to the offices of the Kantonspolizei Zurich. Mac rubbed a hand over his face, willing the headache that was nagging him for a few hours to go away.

The non-descript building was not one of the main Cantonal Police's stations but more of an off the books holding facility which Matty had explained was used for international persons of interest, such as suspected perpetrators of federal criminals, mostly white collar, but even suspected terrorists. Shifting in his seat at the thought of his war hero partner locked up with the dregs of civilization, Mac didn't quite manage to hold back on another hiss of pain as his stitches pulled.

"Mac, you alright?"

Mac did glance over at Bozer's concerned inquiry, giving a nod but lacking the energy for reassuring words, before returning his gaze to the doors that the administrative officer had assured them Jack would be coming through at any moment. He heard his roommate huff out another breath a sure sign of his frustration at Mac's nonverbal response. It was warranted, Mac knew. He had been mostly uncommunicative since being informed of what all had transpired after he'd undergone surgery in Albinen. Even as he realized his silence was probably maddening for his friends, not to mention another reason for their concern and doting, he couldn't quite bring himself to exert much effort to remedy it. Except for the conversation he'd had with Oversight concerning Jack's fate, Mac didn't see much need in talking to anyone-not until he'd seen his partner. He ran a hand over his eyes, when his vision started to waver a little, ignoring the slight shaking of his hand, his head pounding.

He wasn't sure what that conversation might hold as it was one he'd never expected to have, imagining that he and Jack would be leaving Phoenix together or not at all, especially after what happened in Costa Rica and Peru. Mac had spent the last twenty-four hours contemplating every angle of their problem and had yet to come up with any alternate solution to what they were facing. As anxious as he was to see for himself that Jack was fine, he also almost dreaded the face to face, to witness Jack's possible disappointment that for once Mac's improvisation had failed to save them. He wasn't given any more time to consider the ramifications as a buzzer sounded alerting that the heavy metal door before them was about to open.

Riley and Bozer stood, practically snapping to attention as Matty was the first one through. She did not look happy to find a welcoming party.

"I see the gangs all here." Her narrowed, unflinching gaze went from Bozer and Riley to Mac, voice dripping with feigned astonishment. "Color me completely surprised."

Mac made it to his feet just as Jack stepped into the room. He had attempted a measured shift from sitting to upright but in his haste hadn't quite managed. The room tilted and black dots appeared on his peripheral as he was forced to remember the fresh incision at his side, blood was rushing in his ears, bile burning in the back of his throat.

"Mac." Jack was in front of him instantly in what appeared to be a defying of Newton's Laws of Physics. In reality it was possible Mac had blanked out for a few seconds, overcome by a bout of dizziness that had him reflexively squeezing his eyes shut. The first thing he became aware of was Jack's firm grip on his shoulders, his best friend guiding him right back down to the chair Mac had moved from. "What the hell are you doing here, kid?"

"That's a very good question," Matty seconded. Mac opened his eyes, but kept them on Jack's very concerned features as their director expounded. "I recall giving orders for the three of you to go straight to the plane after you were released and to stay there."

"I was just following a previous order given to me by _Jack_ that I was to stay with Mac. No. Matter. What." Bozer justified, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I had to drive them because Mac threatened to walk if I didn't," Riley added, although not as confident or enthusiastically as Bozer's defense had been.

Mac didn't repudiate, which had Jack shaking his head, raising a brow, his hands releasing Mac's shoulders. "You really think it's a good idea to go for a stroll so soon after major surgery, hoss? Someone all too recently shoved your insides around and cut out a piece or two. There's a recovery window there, you know."

"No man left behind." Mac held Jack's gaze, not even realizing he'd wrapped his fingers in the sleeve of Jack's shirt. The very 'Jack-like' description of his appendectomy had him swallowing hard as a wave of nausea rolled over him. His voice was scratchy, and he had to clear his throat before looking up at Matty to add, "No offense, but I needed to be here to make sure he was released." It wasn't Matty that Mac didn't trust, but Oversight.

"Right." Matty pressed her lips together before giving a slight tilt of her head in concession. She whipped her gaze to Mac's other teammates, eyes narrowing once more. "Come on you two. Let's go have a private conversation in the car about whose orders you need to follow first and foremost, shall we."

Mac appreciated the gesture and he caught Bozer's gaze as he walked close enough to pat Jack on the back. Jack looked up at him and winked. "You owe me one," he mouthed. Mac wasn't sure which one of them he was talking to but Jack gave a grin and a small salute.

His partner's smile faded quickly when they were left alone, a worried frown appearing on his forehead.

"Damn, kid, what the hell am I going to do with you?"

"I'm sorry." The words spilled out and Mac realized he'd been repeating them on silent replay for a long while. It had become a personal, private mantra since Costa Rica, since Peru. Since Mexico even, where everything had seemed to shift with his father's words about Afghanistan-' _who do you think arranged for you two to be paired together?_ ' Mac knew eventually something had to give, the situation between Oversight and Jack had grown tense over the last few months. But he couldn't quite stop wondering if him falling sick on their latest mission hadn't sped things along drastically. "I'm so sorry," he repeated, anguished.

Jack's frown deepened. "Now why do I get the feeling this isn't an apology for you giving me more gray hair with your most recent disregard for your health and well-being?" He took the seat next to Mac, looking as tired and worn as Mac had seen him, but his face was filled with concern only for Mac. "How are you really doing, kiddo? You look like hell."

Mac ducked the hand that actually tried to reach out and gauge his temperature. He was not in the mood for coddling or to be the focus of his partner's worry. One of his hands curled over his middle when the sudden movement elicited new pain in his side. "I'm fine," came out sharper than he intended.

"Right." Jack smirked at the typical and likely anticipated comeback, his eyes moving over Mac's face in a close onceover.

"I am," Mac said again, gentler this time. Bozer had explained how no one had told Jack anything over the last two days. Not even Matty had the authority to contact him, which meant he'd had no word on Mac's condition or what was happening outside the holding facility. It was obviously a purposive move, a power play on James's part, one that would have been completely effective against Jack. The fact Jack had days to ruminate on what could be happening only added to Mac's guilt. He shrugged, not meeting the older man's gaze. "It was a routine appendectomy."

"Performed in a backwoods clinic, by an alcoholic doctor who I didn't trust as far as I could throw him." Jack rubbed his eyes, blinking. "Forgive me for being a little doubtful about you tossing around the word 'routine' when I happen to know you're a walking worst case scenario even in the best of settings."

Mac ignored his best friend's hyperbole. There were much bigger issues at hand. He turned slightly so he was facing Jack, who'd dropped his hand to his lap with a shake of his head."I guess Matty told you I couldn't get my father to see reason."

"Director Weber told me that thanks to my partner's smooth negation skills Oversight agreed not to press charges concerning my most recent insubordination." Jack arched a brow, his dark gaze emphasizing that Mac should heed to his careful reframing, which of course alleviated any blame on Mac's part.

"Charges that were personally motivated, justified or not." Mac couldn't help but to counter. As much as Jack might want him to believe they were dealing with a professional crisis, that was not the case. James was Oversight, but he was also Mac's father, and Mac was sure that _that_ more than any sense of duty or adherence to procedure fueled his motives.

"Dude, I pulled a gun on a superior with all intentions of using it. I stepped across the line. Remember that time I punched the MP and Hammond made sure I spent the weekend in the stockade? _This_ is the same kind of deal." Jack ran a hand over his bearded face, blowing out air in a long breath. "Hell, I obliterated a few dozen lines this go around. I was in dereliction of duty a dozen ways to Sunday and if you weren't hurting and half delirious with a fever you'd realize it."

"What I realize is that you did what you did because of me," Mac insisted, finally meeting Jack's piercing gaze. Jack was correct. It was like when he'd punched the MP, an MP who'd gotten a little too hands-on with one certain Delta's EOD. "You were protecting me."

"Which is why I'm not one bit sorry about what I did." Mac watched his partner will his fists to unclench. He reached out and briefly squeezed Mac's shoulder. When Mac didn't evade the touch and in fact leaned into it slightly, he nodded with a half smile. "I'd do it again, bud, even if it meant a worse punishment than the one I got. The one I dodged because of you. I should be thanking you, kid. Or apologizing. I'm pretty sure both is warranted considering I broke a promise when I wasn't around when you came to."

"You were fired from Phoenix, Jack." Mac didn't want a thank you or any apology. He rubbed a hand over his forehead, the throbbing behind his temple not making it easy to think. Mac felt another slight shiver racing down his spine.

"Which is a lot better than sitting in a Super Max across from our old boss, Thornton, or worse, sharing a cellblock with your buddy Murdoc." Jack removed his hand, bringing it back to his lap, where he laced it with his other. He leaned forward on his elbows, giving a sigh. "The way I see it, you saved me, bud. Just like always."

"Then why does it feel like I've lost you." Mac clenched his jaw. He had not meant to let those particular words escape, but like earlier he seemed to have little control. It was the fear he'd been trying to wrangle back in the box for months. He blamed the drugs still in his system that it had slipped free to take on a power of its own. The stupid drugs that had been a necessary evil if he was going to be able to get out of bed and move around. Maybe the fever he was still struggling to shake and the accompanying exhaustion were co-conspirators in his downfall, but whatever the reason he silently cursed his weakness as Jack turned a stunned gaze to him.

"Mac, you haven't lost any damn thing." Jack sat up straighter, his voice gentle but somehow as resolute and convicted as when he was issuing a command in battle. "I'm not going anywhere. Nothing. No one. could make me leave. We're family. Our circumstances may change, but that doesn't waver. Got it?"

Mac wanted to say yes, to affirm that he whole-heartedly, one hundred percent believed what his best friend, his _brother_ , was saying, but his past stood directly in his way of doing so. A daunting reality of abandonment and failed promises proved a hurdle too great to easily leap over.

"But what will you do?" Was what Mac got out instead, a request for proof that Jack had a plan. He hated that he couldn't just blindly trust, but it wasn't how he was wired. Mac swallowed, clearing his throat when his voice threatened to break.

Jack's smile, although a little sad was tolerant, proving he hadn't expected a quick affirmation of acceptance, even if he might have hoped his words would elicit such a response. "I don't know, bud, but I have options. There are lots of jobs out there for a man with a skillset like mine."

Mac furrowed his brow, attempting to cross arms over his chest, but finding it too painful to do so because it pulled on his incision. He settled for narrowing his gaze. "Jack you're a trained sniper, tactical expert and intelligence operative….of a certain age." Jack pulled a face at the mention of his years of experience but Mac continued on undaunted. "Not exactly points in your favor when it comes to a resume in a new career field with Joe Public."

"So, kindergarten teacher is out of the question, although if Arnold Schwarzenegger could do it…" Jack rolled his eyes when Mac continued to frown. He held up his hands in a placating manner when he obviously realized the joke fell flat. "Mac, I promise I'll find some way to come up with the rent on time each month if that's what's eating at you. I'll even manage my share of the utilities and groceries, as long as you count Doritos and beer as having nutritional value."

"Rent?" Mac shook his head, convinced he might have zoned out again. His head was fuzzy, but he was sure he had been tracking the conversation just fine up until that point.

"Yeah, rent, kid. I'm not a mooch, no matter what Bozer says." Jack grinned in the face of Mac's flummoxed expression. "Wait and see. You won't even have time to miss me at Phoenix seeing as how we'll be roommates and all. Just don't count on me donning that stupid apron of Bozer's to have dinner waiting for you, and we'll have to work out a code when one of us has a lady over, but…"

"You're moving in?" Mac rubbed a hand over his eyes, feeling his vision waver once more. He wasn't sure how they'd veered so of course of the subject at hand, but Jack was a master of redirection when it suited him.

"Unless you don't want me to. Don't tell me you've already made plans for the spare room after Bozer moves in with his girl. Some secret science lab or, a naked room like Terry Bradshaw wanted in that movie with…"

"A what? No…" Mac shook his head, dazed by the bizarre shift in conversation and the disturbing image of Terry Bradshaw in the buff. He wasn't even aware Bozer was officially moving out. He blinked, finally giving in to his body's need of putting some strain off his side by slumping slightly forward. "I want you to move in, it's just not what I expected."

"Well, now, that's the kick in the nuts now isn't it, brother." Jack reached out and squeezed Mac's shoulder again. "Life never is exactly what we expected." The older man's grin faded slightly when Mac met his gaze with what he imagined was a version of what Jack liked to call his 'kicked puppy look'. "Things don't always go according to our grand plan but you know what, I sure as hell didn't bank on another tour in Afghanistan all those years ago when a certain bomb nerd showed up in my barracks messing with my stuff, but look how great that turned out."

Mac blinked, hating the edge of desperation in his voice. "But what about your plan to retire to Hawaii, and open up the private security firm on Oahu?"

"Damn, hoss, I think I can hold on for another year." Jack laughed, letting him go and Mac could see the bone-weary exhaustion in his partner but also sensed his acceptance. "I'm not that old."

"A lot can happen in a year, Jack." Mac still couldn't quite wrap his mind around what work at Phoenix would look like without Jack watching his back. Jack had been his overwatch for so long, any other scenario seemed an impossible fit.

"We'll figure it out, Shepherd. I promise." When Mac looked up in surprise at the rarely used nickname from their days in the desert, Jack's gaze was resolute and unflinching, conveying the mooring Mac had been grappling to find. The call sign, just like the first time Jack had used it, had become something of a metaphorical buoy, a life line. It didn't instantly bring back a wealth of bad memories as one might imagine, instead It brought a reminder that not only had Mac been officially adopted into the Delta family all those years ago, but that he'd also instantly become so much more than the know it all, pain in the ass, EOD Jack was assigned to watch over. They were brothers. And that had nothing to do with James MacGyver so there was nothing he could in fact do to change it. Jack gave him a knowing nod. "I'm not abandoning my post. I swear."

Mac swallowed again, his emotions choking him up this time. "You know my deal with Oversight was so much better than the lame ass one you made with Joint Forces to get us out of the sandbox, right?"

Jack laughed out loud, which had been Mac's aim. "Well, color me surprised," he said, stealing Matty's words and her feigned incredulity from before. Jack stood, offering Mac a hand up. "You've always been a whole hell of a lot smarter than me, Butch. Using that big old brain is what you do best."

Jack didn't give Mac a chance to refute him before he pointed a finger. "Except when it comes to taking care of yourself. Then, you regress in IQ to somewhere around a first grader."

Mac gripped his partner's proffered hand and allowed the assist, swallowing a hiss of pain when the stitches in his side pulled yet again. Having surgery sucked. "I'll have you know I could recite the periodic table and the properties of all the elements when I was six, Sundance."

Jack's grin widened, teeth flashing. "Well now, that sure didn't stop you from not wanting to get your tonsils out, now did it."

"What? How did you know about that?" Mac didn't even bother with a protest when once he was standing Jack slid a hand around his back to keep him steady, shouldering his weight.

"Oversight." Jack's voice hardened, brows drawing together. "Thanks to his unhelpful reminiscing I kept envisioning six-year- old, mussed hair, sleepy-eyed Mac waking up from this latest surgery, traumatized when I wasn't there like some favorite, counted-on woobie. Believe me, it sucked."

Mac couldn't hold back on the laugh as he was pretty certain Jack needed absolutely _no_ prompting whatsoever from James MacGyver to envision him as that same little, defenseless kid anytime Mac was hurt, sometimes even when he wasn't. He couldn't bring himself to reprimand Jack for the embarrassing image of him as a child or for the conjured one of Jack as some well-loved, worn, one-eyed stuffed bear counted on for security, deciding instead to cut him some slack. "If it makes you feel better, man, the one thing that stands out vividly from having my tonsils out is Harry sneaking in a whole gallon of Rocky Road ice cream. He let me eat as much as I wanted."

"Really?" Jack shot him a doubtful look, one that still held a small trace of the pain he must have genuinely experienced when he was unable to be there for Mac when he believed his partner needed him. It was proof that the coming year would be hard on both of them.

For that very reason alone, Mac would never mention to Jack what else he remembered from that time in the hospital all those years ago, the terror of waking up alone in a room all too similar to the one where his mother had so recently died, hooked to machines he didn't understand that made noises which sometimes still provided a backdrop to his nightmares. Instead, he offered a smile ignoring the pain in his gut that had nothing to do with the all too recent incision in his side and everything to do with the fear that the security he'd learned to count on was going to be cruelly, but predictably torn away.

His best friend still looked dubious, so Mac bumped against him, rolling his eyes when Jack glanced over at him. "Really, Tombstone. What's better than Rocky Road ice cream?"

RcJ

to be continued...


	8. Chapter 8

Let's Be Enemies

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has taken time to review and comment. I so appreciate it. I hope this once more keeps Jack with us on another Friday. Thanks to Mary who encouraged me to keep going with the story, even as I was totally disappointed in the show.

RcJ

"No, just no, Jack." Mac's voice was firm and uncompromising.

"But you said for me to make myself at home, whole su casa is my casa." Jack gestured to the painting which had apparently been the impetus for Mac putting his book aside. He glanced over his shoulder to the couch where his partner had been reluctantly reclined most of the day, directing the move-in activities instead of aiding in the process. Mac had even braved bossing Matty around, which miraculously didn't earn him a beat down and could only be credited to the fact he still looked somewhat pitiful. Paler than usual, and lacking his typical spark after the spectacular set back from his surgery. Gratefully, he'd mostly shaken the fever that followed him home from Albinen, but Jack couldn't help to be on guard as he took in the ruffled hair and oversized Army sweatshirt as well as the dark shadows under Mac's eyes. Unkempt worked for the kid, played to his advantage. Even Deltas and hard asses like Matilda Weber wanted to mother him.

"Which I quickly clarified, explaining that your beloved Texas flag and the sword could stay in here," Mac made a vague gesture to encompass the vicinity around them, the book slipping on his lap. "But Telly Savalis had to stay in _your_ room. On the far wall, where no innocent person passing through the hall on the way to the bathroom might be assaulted by his unnerving visage."

"Visage?" Jack propped his hands on his hips, holding back on his grin and raised a brow instead. The kid always got wordy when he'd spent too much time cooped up with no challenging problem to occupy his big old brain. "Do you even know what you're saying?"

"Of course I do," Mac grumbled, shifting on the pile of pillows behind him, a slight frown appearing on his forehead when the movement seemed to hurt. Jack had to bite his lip to keep from asking the kid if he was okay. A few books fell to the floor, along with some paperclips from the assortment of supplies surrounding the genius. " _I_ have more than a fifth grade vocabulary."

"That grand grown-up vernacular doesn't stop him from acting like a ten-year-old whenever he's sick," Bozer muttered with an eye roll as he passed by Jack with the last of the boxes from his car. He was the lone mover remaining, the ladies of their crew having already clocked out, demanding Jack pay up for their hard day's labor. As promised, he'd sent Riley, Leanna and Matty off with enough to cash to have a nice dinner at their favorite Mexican restaurant and more than a few margaritas on him.

"I heard that," Mac growled, sitting up straighter on the couch, mumbling something else under his breath, which only lent credulity to Bozer's observation. Their best friend was not a happy camper, and Bozer's patience was possibly wearing thin. Mac having a scary relapse in part due to his own stubbornness and pushing his limits had all their nerves a bit thin, toss in all the upcoming changes for their team and the holidays and it made for a volatile mix.

"On that note, I'm hitting the shower, coach." Bozer dropped the box on the island. He nodded to Jack. "I will not be cooking dinner, so one of you better come up with something for us to eat before it gets much later." He pointed a finger at Jack, brows drawing together. "Doritos and beer do not constitute a meal fit for the man who made twenty trips across town today!"

"I hear you, hoss." Jack brought Telly over to the couch with him, sitting the painting on the adjacent chair with a huff before shoving some of Mac's nesting over to take a seat on the edge beside his best friend. He jutted his chin after Bozer. "You'd think he's forgotten how I got all his stuff to Leanna's yesterday without any complaints on my part. I was a cheerful worker, like one of Santa's elves."

"You made the tactical team at Phoenix help you as you're going away gift." Mac arched a brow, drawing his legs closer to him to give his partner some room. "I'm not even sure you carried one box and they took you out for beer and pizza afterward like some hometown football hero who'd scored the winning touchdown."

"Hey now, it's not my fault I'm beloved by my men, good at delegating and have homeboys who eat, breathe and live for CrossFit, while Bozer's crew at the lab consist of a bunch of geeky guys who only lift beakers and their mocha-frappe-latte's. There's also Sparky of course, your all's AI freak, but he's not much help outside a game of chess." Jack shrugged, mouth twitching.

"I've been thinking about upgrading him with a bionic component…" Mac started thoughtfully, one hand absently rubbing over his blanket covered side.

"Who? Bozer?" Jack asked barely managing his straight look. "I think he might hurt himself."

Mac sighed, running a hand through his already tousled hair. "Sparky."

"That seals it, son." Jack shook his head, a gleam in his eyes. "Terminator marathon tonight. It's time I educated you once more on Skynet."

"Absolutely not." Mac growled, folding his arms over his chest. "No more movie marathons, Jack. I'm sick of television. Besides, we have too much to do before our flight to Austin tomorrow."

"I'm not sure I can get used to flying commercial." Jack rubbed a hand down his mouth, thinking about the trouble it had taken to get two last minute flights to Texas on Christmas Eve. He'd been counting on a ride from Phoenix and now that was out of the question. "I may have to invest a little nest egg in my Dalton Air plan."

Mac snorted, relaxing back against the pile of pillows. "I'd hold off on buying a plane until you see how your part time gig for the City of Los Angeles pans out, Ranger Dalton."

"Don't scoff at the newest part time Search and Rescue chopper pilot, brother." Jack flashed a rueful grin, intent on teasing the kid out of his bad mood. He knew Mac hadn't been thrilled about the quick job offer or the others that had rolled in right after the first one. It was a final nail in the reality coffin, the one that assured there was no more life for Jack at Phoenix, not professionally. At least not for the time being. "You're just sore that you were so wrong about my marketability. I've only been a free agent less than a week and the offers keep rolling in. If my dad's old buddy, Seth the friendly Park Ranger, hadn't just lost one of his stick jockeys and snatched me up, I could have had my choice of an ATF job or that whole stimulator specialist number Matty set up."

"Simulator," Mac corrected with an expected eye roll, resting a hand over his middle. "Homeland Security wanted you to help set up _simulations_ for fighter pilots, which seems to me would have been a lot more profitable and less dangerous. Like the video games you love."

"But, dude, you know I've always wanted to be a ranger." Jack smirked. The Homeland Security job also meant he was on semi-permanent lone to DC. He could have stayed with Hammond, but Jack was not living in Washington, even part time.

"A _Texas_ Ranger, yes," Mac picked up the book that slid from his lap, but instead of opening it, he frowned at Jack. "This isn't anything like that, Chuck Norris."

"Didn't I tell you I get a badge and my own horse?" Jack had taken his father's friend up on the offer to fill in some of his gaps in coverage mostly for Mac's sake, although he couldn't come out and say that. The apparent career move suggested permanence and offered tangible proof Jack didn't have plans to go anywhere now that he'd been cut loose from Phoenix, which was exactly what Mac _needed_ to see from him, even if the kid would never admit it, maybe didn't even consciously realize it. Jack would enjoy the job, the unique challenges it might present during fire season, but as for other work, Jack had a few ideas of his own. He slapped Mac's knee, still grinning. "Wait until I tell JP."

"Wait until _I_ tell Nana Beth you turned down an office job paying six figures," Mac warned, crossing his arms once more, his gaze not leaving Jack.

Jack laughed, knowing Bozer would have loved having his theory about Mac's age regression further illustrated by the stubbed up demeanor. "Damn, bud, our grandmother is a smart woman. She's always said Dalton men don't have the sense God gave a goose. She's not going to be one bit surprised. Besides, with you to tend to, she'll barely take notice of me."

"I don't need tending to, Jack." Mac's gaze narrowed, his tone bristling and prickly with warning. It was a clear indication he'd had his fill of being taken care of but Jack wasn't about to back down. "You better not have played up my condition to Beth when you called to explain why we were coming a few days late, just to take the heat off you."

"Seeing as how you had emergency surgery less than a week ago and then nearly succumbed to a virulent infection, I really didn't have to lay anything on too thick, brother." The mocking tone was leaving jack's voice, worry taking its place as he considered the 'what ifs'.

"Succumb? Virulent?" Mac sighed, rubbing a hand over his brow.

Jack snorted. "What? You think you're the only one with the fancy vernacular?"

"I didn't almost succumb to anything except your annoying slant for over protection. The only thing virulent is your hovering. You're the one who insisted I go back to Phoenix medical when we landed."

"That wasn't an easy decision, bud." Jack had worried James would have him thrown out of the building and try to block him from staying with Mac. In the end, Jack trusted Matty to once more go to bat for him. But even if he hadn't, he'd still insisted on his best friend being treated where Mac felt comfortable and where they at least knew and trusted the staff.

"I don't understand why you wrestled so hard with the idea of letting Dr. Accola perform my surgery, only to hand me over to my known nemesis, Nurse Sally," Mac continued with a yawn. He'd lost his look of irritation and now seemed to be poking at Jack out of sheer boredom, or possibly fighting the sleep he needed despite claiming he'd had more than enough rest.

"I handed you over to our _friends_ in medical because your fever was 104, dude. You were loopy." Jack pointed a finger at him, cutting off any coming rebuttal. Images of the kid shivering against him, miserable and lethargic on the long flight from Zurich to Los Angeles sprang unbidden to Jack's mind, his stomach clenching at the memories. Doctor Carl had only needed a cursory exam to proclaim Mac one sick kid. They'd started intravenous IVs of antibiotics and fluids, and even though James stopped by to check in, he didn't speak to Jack or question his presence. Jack sighed, his eyes meeting Mac's, open honesty in them. "You scared me, bud. Like, thinking you were going to fry your brain or start seizing kind of scare me. Don't be pissed because I took care of you. It's what I do. It's what I'm _always_ going to do."

"And I appreciate that." Mac looked down glumly at the books and papers scattered around him, evidence that he'd been made to follow doctor's orders and actually have complete rest since being released from Phoenix. When his gaze found Jack's again, it was not as icy. Even a hint of dimple peeked at his cheek. "Mostly."

"Then cut me some slack," Jack said a little more serious than he intended to, just as his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out, glancing at the new text before quickly bringing up the lock screen, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

"Who is it?" Mac asked, warily. "Not work, right? Because you don't go on the roster at the forestry service until the first of the year."

"It was Hammond," Jack assured, interpreting the concern now coloring his best friend's face as wariness that their plans were somehow about to change again. Jack wondered how long Mac would be waiting for the next rug to be pulled from beneath his feet. He forced a grin, despite the bitter taste of regret for the whole damn situation. "He got our annual gift of scotch and Cubans we sent and wanted to say thanks."

"I talked to him earlier," Mac said. Jack hadn't known his partner had spoken with their former commander and the surprise must have showed on his face. "I wanted to check in on Dr. Accola and the reporter," the kid explained somewhat sheepishly. "Accola saved my life and the whole point of our mission was to arrange a possible release for the senator's son. They're both back in Washington. Safe and sound."

"That's good." Jack didn't have to force a smile this time. Of course the kid had checked in on the doctor and senator's kid. Jack jostled Mac's leg. "All's well that ends well. Right. So, how about it, Butch, you going to let me off the hook on my helicopter parenting?" He arched a brow at the kid. "Consider it an early Christmas present."

"I already bought you something." Mac searched his face for a moment, looking hesitant before finally turning his longing gaze towards the hallway with a capitulating sigh. "Which I really need to pack along with all the other gifts I'm taking to the ranch. I already shipped most of it, but…"

"That sounds like something you can have _Bozer_ do while I'm gone." Jack patted his blanked covered leg again, before standing, his own knees popping. "Although, I'd ask nicely. Maybe even try flashing the kicked puppy eyes instead of that glower you've been sporting all day."

"Wait…you're leaving." Jack took note that Mac was already managing a good guilt inducing look as he locked the baby blues on him, all hints of irritation replaced by something too close to fear. "I thought you and Bozer cleared the last of the stuff out of your apartment on the last trip. You said you turned in your keys."

"We did. I'm going to finish up my last minute shopping," Jack explained, noting that for someone who claimed they hated being watched and looked after, Mac reverted to hawk mode where he was concerned. It might have been subtler than Jack's hovering, but the kid was desperate to keep the people he cared about close, as if he were worried Jack would disappear again.

"Tell me you didn't wait until now to buy your gifts." Mac looked at the clock, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "It's the day before Christmas Eve. Bozer would tell you that you're the kind of guy that give us men a bad name."

"Hey now, I may not start shopping on QVC in July like our buddy, Boze, but I've got the main stuff, just have a few little details to take care of." Jack reached out to ruffle the kid's already mussed hair. It earned him the fiery glare he was hoping for. An indignant, exasperated Mac was miles better than a worried one. "The dogs and our favorite pig, Dodger, will be hurt if I leave them out. Then there's the matter of Raucus and Treaty. They'll expect those apple cookies you started bringing them from that fancy, fru fru place down town."

Mac frowned, his hand fiddling with the blanket. "Giddiyap Girls isn't fru fru, Jack. It's a natural holistic pet food store."

"That's the one." Jack grabbed his jacket from where he'd tossed it over the back of the couch, turning back to meet his partner's gaze. "It's close to that retro diner you like, isn't it? The one with the great hamburgers where Nikki ambushed you."

"It is." Mac perked up. It was a good sign that he was truly on the mend when he intentionally dodged Jack's jab about his ex-girlfriend holding him at gunpoint after their first run in with Murdoc. Also, if the gleam in his gaze was telling, his partner seemed to have his appetite back. "They have world class chili fries, too."

"Well, then, maybe I could stop in on my way back and grab dinner for us three from there. Sound good?" Jack bobbed his brows.

"Sounds great." A hint of smile played at Mac's mouth. "They have rocky road shakes, too."

"Now you're just playing me. Have you no shame?"

"Depends. Is it working?"

Jack jerked a thumb at the Telly Savalis poster sitting in the chair, grinning. "As my man Kojac would say, 'who loves you, baby'?"

Mac groaned, dismissing the old tag line Jack used to toss out in the sandbox whenever he'd rescued Mac from an uncertain fate, but Jack hesitated in playing along anymore. He paused in putting on his coat and his sudden hesitation had Mac looking up at him, a frown once more marring his forehead.

"Jack? Everything okay?"

"It's true you know," Jack started. Faltered again. He understood that he and the kid had never had much need for words, not the kind that spoke to how they were feeling, the depth of their commitment or friendship, but something about the course of the last few months, especially the turmoil of the past couple of weeks demanded something different, something more. Jack huffed, then continued in a rush, feeling almost sheepish. "The whole doing anything for you, I mean." He cleared his throat. "I love you like crazy, kiddo."

Mac didn't blink. Jack wasn't sure he was still taking in any air. His body was completely still, but Jack could sense a whir of emotion taking place in his blue gaze. Then just before the stillness grew awkward he nodded. Simple. Accepting. Then a genuine grin twisted his mouth.

"The feeling's mutual, big guy, but that painting is still going in _your_ room."

"Such judgment from the kid who has a polar bear and a whole collection of rubber ducks as part of his interior design motif." Jack slid into his jacket, holding off the stupid grin he wanted to let loose and shook his head. "I'll never understand millennials."

"I want extra cheese on my burger," Mac said as way of an answer, leaning back into the pillows, seemingly more relaxed than before. "Don't forget Bozer hates tomatoes."

"Right." Jack nodded, checking his pockets for the car keys. "Just make sure our tomato challenged friend does all the heavy lifting on your packing, dude."

He didn't wait for Mac's response though he had a suspicious feeling the kid might have given him a highly suggestive hand gesture as he turned to go. Jack made sure to lock the door before closing it behind him, taking a mental note to do a security upgrade now that he had some time on his hands. Once outside he pulled his phone out again. Bringing up his contacts he pressed the call button and tucked the cell to his ear as he walked towards his GTO.

"Hey, it's Dalton. Since you're in town how about we meet up to talk about that job offer." He opened the car door and slid in, heart pounding in a mix of excitement and anxiety. "I happen to know this little diner I think will be right up your alley." Jack grabbed his sun glasses from the console and slid them on against the afternoon rays. "Good deal, brother. I'll text you the coordinates."

Despite the hordes of shoppers downtown doing just as he was in finishing up their Christmas lists he managed to wrap up in under an hour and actually made the time he'd tossed out to his prospective employer.

The sun was setting when Jack opened the door to the crowded diner. Christmas lights winked at him from all the windows and the open doorway of the kitchen. Bells rang at his entrance. He glanced to the back of the place, not surprised to find his party of one waiting in the last booth, in direct view of the door. He weaved his way through the patrons, gesturing to one of the waitresses at a nearby table that he'd like a coffee as he went.

"About time you made it, Bourne. Thought I was going to have to eat alone."

"Detective Malloy." Jack grinned as he dropped into the booth across from Dean Winchester. "Or are you working a different alias today?"

"Today, I'm here in an official capacity." Dean gestured to his plate filled with one of the famous cheeseburgers Mac loved and a heaping pile of the chili cheese fries he'd mentioned. His green eyes flashed with anticipation as he rubbed his hands together. "Restaurant critic for the Times. I was just about to dig into my research."

Jack snorted, shaking his head. "It wouldn't surprise me, kid."

"Actually, I'm here on a job, so the chance to grab a meal with my favorite secret agent is a win, win." Dean grinned, devouring a chili cheese fry.

"Where's the rest of the crew?" Jack asked, but had to wait for the answer as their server brought him his coffee. She asked if Jack would be eating as well, but directed her question to 'Dean' instead of Jack.

"I'll be taking an order to go." Jack gestured to the plate in front of the younger man, clearing his throat when the girl continued to stare dreamily at Dean. Mac often garnered the same reaction from servers of the female variety so Jack's ego wasn't extremely bruised when she seemed to notice him for the first time. "How about you give me three of what lover boy is having, one extra cheese, one without tomatoes and a couple of rocky road shakes, darlin'."

"Sure thing." She finally replied, flashing Dean another million dollar smile before scribbling Jack's order on her little pad and sashaying away, hips swinging.

Dean bobbed his eyebrows at Jack. "Gotta say, for all the smog and shitty traffic, Bourne, your town has the best service."

"Yeah," Jack snorted, grabbing his coffee. "Wannabe actors are all about pride in their work."

"They do brighten the scenery," Dean smirked. "Caleb and Sammy are going to be sad they snubbed their nose at your choice of fine dining establishments. They went to China town to some underground sushi place that is rumored to offer contraband fish."

"Some of that shit will kill you if it's not cooked right, man." Jack said as Dean took a big bite of his burger. Mac and Riley once dragged him to some exclusive restaurant with a sketchy chef. Jack was more concerned about toxicity potential than the number of stars the reviewer at the paper had given the place. _Millennials._

"Yeah, well, in our line of work puffer fish poison is low on the totem pole of worries." Dean picked up a few more fries, gesturing to Jack. "Speaking of work and partners, where's James Blonde?"

"Home, recovering from a nasty case of appendicitis. We fly out for Texas tomorrow so he's resting up." Jack took a sip of the hot coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste.

"Ouch." Dean said, genuine concern registering on his face. "He going to be okay?"

"Nothing a long recuperation at our family ranch in Texas won't mend, but he's going to be out of the field for a while." Unwanted pictures of Mac's latest setback popped in Jack's head and he quickly pushed them away into a far corner of his mind. Things had turned out fine and dwelling on all the worst case scenarios wouldn't change what happened. Jack could only move forward.

"Is that why you have a sudden interest in the job offer? I gotta tell you when I tossed it out several months back, I never thought you'd consider." Dean leaned back inside the booth, giving Jack a close once over. "You seemed happy with the whole spy gig."

"Let's just say _I'm_ taking a more permanent time out from our employer." Jack picked up the cream and dumped a hefty amount in his mug, along with a few packs of sugar. Back when Dean had extended the invite to join their exclusive, secret society Jack had just gotten Mac back from the brink of death. All he wanted to do was head home, back to their insane version of normal. Their lives could be crazy, but it was action movie crazy, not horror film worthy. "I'm not the type to sit around twiddling my thumbs while my team is out on missions. I'll lose my mind."

A smile twitched at the corners of Dean's mouth, gaze sparking with amusement. "Let me guess, you violated one too many of those procedures that all the government bean counters hold in high esteem and they took your Aston Martin and free tuxedo rentals away."

"What can I say," Jack grinned, remembering his and Dean's first conversation in Mexico, back when he thought two vice detectives had inadvertently and miraculously saved Mac from being killed by El Noche. "Sometimes a guy just has to say screw protocol."

Dean laughed, looking slightly chagrined at having his own wise words tossed back at him. "When it comes to brothers, damn straight." He leveled Jack with a suddenly serious gaze. "I think you could be a real asset, Dalton. That nest of witches we stirred up by taking Patton's sword, is a different kind of messy. The fight we're in…it's getting complicated. The enemy is a hell of lot more organized these days, like a militia." Dean's brows drew together, and not for the first time Jack got a glimpse of the concerned leader he'd seen in their previous interactions. "We need to step up our game. I could use someone versed in tactical warfare and strategy to help in training my men. Caleb knows everything there is to know about hunting, but he's never been in the military. My dad was single-minded in how he trained us, more lone wolf than pack-mentality."

"I know strategy and tactics, Dean, but I got to be honest, all that other stuff that I saw when we were after Patton's notebook…well, that is beyond me." Jack had witnessed things he'd never imagined, and for a man who'd been a soldier for most of his life in places all over the world, that was saying a lot. One commonality he'd discovered while fighting alongside Winchester and his brothers-the only reason he was sitting across from the younger man now- was that the supernatural battlefield wasn't really that different from the ones he'd already bled on. Not in the important ways. Not when it came to the men who were willing to sacrifice for one another, who were willing to give their lives to protect innocents. They'd saved Mac's life without a thought to their own. Jack lowered his voice, his gaze meeting Dean's. "Not a lot blows my mind or rocks my world, but your buddy, Caleb, the winged guy, Castiel, well they're a whole other kind of mystery."

"Most people who get an unwanted glimpse behind the curtain feel that way, dude. The fact you're here now, not curled in a ball in a padded room or gone back to convincing yourself it was all a bad dream, tells me you're not exactly most people." Dean tapped his fingers on the table, his gaze going to the band on his ring finger. "But my brother likes to tell new hunters that this silver is a lot heavier than it looks. Sammy can be a debbie downer, but he's crazy smart. This band gives you protection, makes you a part of something bigger than yourself, but it also comes with a whole hell of a lot of responsibility. Hunting things, saving people…well that work's not for the average Joe, even if he can give Jason Bourne a run for his money."

"I was Delta, dude." Jack leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. He wrapped his hands around the coffee mug, glancing into it for a moment before looking back at Dean. "I know all about being a part of something bigger than yourself. I'm not afraid of what it takes to be a hunter, hoss. I've been fighting monsters most of my life, and once I'm committed to a cause or a person, I'll willingly lay my life down for them. I'd kill for your people. I'd die for them, too."

"There's a but there," Dean prodded, taking a drink of his coffee.

"But my availability is dependent on what's going on with Mac. He's my priority mission. Always. You need to know my family comes first. If he needs me, I have to be there."

Dean stared at him for a long moment, and then broke into a big shit-eating grin. "Well, damn, Bourne. You're in luck. Family first just happens to be our company motto. I told you that the first time we met. It's The Brotherhood code."

Jack snorted, taking another drink from his coffee. "Does that mean I'm hired?"

"The ring's yours if you want it, Jack."

"Just like that?" Jack raised a brow, glancing around them. "You don't need to run that by the rest of your team?"

"Dude, I'm The Guardian." Dean gave an indignant scowl. "Chief of Staff." He tapped his chest. "El Pesidente. The Godfather."

"Easy now." Jack held up a hand and laughed. "I get it, Don Corleone. As long as I don't have to kiss your ring we're good."

"Pay for my dinner and throw in one of those milkshakes you mentioned and then we'll call it good." Dean picked up his cheeseburger taking a huge bite. He didn't wait to swallow completely before he added. "What about your partner? Sam would love another Ivy League genius in the mix. From what I saw, Mac, besides being a genius, has guts and a mean left hook."

Jack sighed, thinking about Mac joining a secret society of supernatural hunters. It was almost preferable to him working for James MacGyver. After all, there were other ways for the kid to use his giant intellect and to save the world. Maybe after a year dealing with Oversight for a year, his partner would be willing to try it. "Possibly at some point, right now he's tied up at Phoenix. Contractual obligation along with some daddy issues he's dealing with."

Dean winced. "Dude, I know all about those."

Jack raised brow. He was pretty sure Dean had told him his father was deceased. "I thought your old man had passed."

"He has. But that brings us to two important rules we need to get straight right off the bat." Dean wiped his mouth, picking up his coffee again. "One-death is relative when it comes to The Brotherhood. Two-dragons are real. Keep that in mind while you consider my offer."

"Got it." Jack shook his head, feeling almost a little giddy. "Anything else I should think about, Malloy?"

Dean grinned again. "How do you feel about tattoos?"

"Tattoos?" Jack couldn't stop the look of distaste that crossed his face at the thought of needles, his fear of the sharp instruments probably one of the things that kept his skin unmarred during his years in the service. The scars he had picked up along the way were not works of art. There was also his Nana Beth's promise she'd tan his hide if he put any graffiti on God's temple. He frowned. "You talking jailhouse ink or some kind of tribal marking?"

"I'm talking the mandatory save your skin from demon possession kind." Dean waved the idea off. "Don't stress about it, man. Body mutilation, transmutations, vamp infection and possible werewolf turnings, the whole gambit will be covered in orientation."

"You have orientation?" Jack ignored all the insane risk factors Dean had just laid out in lieu of being awed over the one normal thing the younger man had said. He had not expected a formal induction into hunting, unless maybe it included hoods and a giant bonfire. "Is that code for some kind of cool ritual?"

"Don't I wish. That's plain speak for Joshua now makes new recruits sit through hours of human resources shit he thinks has brought The Brotherhood into the 21'st century." Dean rolled his eyes, taking another huge bite of the burger, muttering as he chewed, "Like somebody is going to sue an ultra- secret society of super heroes."

"I take it there's a nice insurance package?" Jack joked, his thumb absently tracing the rim of his mug.

"Nope. We're not big on 401K's, either." Dean winked. "But if it makes you feel better, Bourne, most hunters don't usually retire."

"Once you're in, you're in for life."

"Like the mob." Dean actually laughed. snorted. "More or less."

"Good to know." Jack finished off his coffee. "I've never seen myself as the retiring kind, brother."

"One more reason I think you're going to fit in just fine."

"Now I just have to convince Mac about that." Jack rubbed a finger at his temple, frowning.

Dean had lifted his coffee, but stopped short of taking a drink. "You haven't talked to him?"

"All of this has been rather sudden."

"No time like the present." Dean's face grew solemn. "I've learned the hard way that secrets are never a good thing, especially when it comes to brothers."

"Speaking of presents." Jack glanced at his watch. "I still have one more to pick up before I head back home."

Their server's timing was spot on as she returned with three bags and a drink carrier with the shakes. She slid the ticket to Jack, smiling once more at Dean. Jack rolled his eyes again, standing. He tossed a few big bills on the table, more than enough to cover his and Winchester's food before holding his hand out to Dean. The younger man returned Jack's firm grip. "I'll be in touch."

Dean grinned. "I'll tell Josh to get your paperwork started. He might even want a blood sample."

"As long as Drew doesn't have to measure me for any uniforms." Jack mock-shuddered.

"The ring's the only dress code." Dean nodded to Jack. "Just so you know, you're not the only one it protects. The silver may be heavy but it also stretches. Anyone in your family becomes one of us."

"Thanks, Malloy." Jack felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders at Dean's mention of the extra protection the job afforded to those closest to Jack. It was something he was counting on. Because now that he was on the outs with Phoenix he was desperate for backup in case a situation arose and he needed to get to Mac and their team.

Hammond and Delta could always be counted on but Jack knew Matty was right when she said James's ties ran deep. He'd been involved in Jack's Joint Forces missions. He'd had enough pull to have he and Mac assigned to one another in Afghanistan. But Jack knew for damn sure that Oversight had no sway over The Brotherhood. Probably didn't even believe half of what they knew about it and had actually filed in their action report during the mess with Patton's journal. He felt an icy chill race down his spine at the thought of what James was capable of and was once again certain of his course.

"No problem, Bourne. Don't forget your food, and my tab on your way out. Also, tell James Blonde and Bozer I said Merry Christmas."

"I'll do that." Jack assured.

And he would.

Just as soon as he figured out how to tell his kid that not only had he signed on to be a ranger, but he'd somehow agreed to become a hunter of the supernatural.

The End

Epilogue coming soon!

A/N: I struggled for a long time over what I wanted Jack to do. In the end, I chose a path I hope will give me options. There are tons of possibilities of trouble Jack could get up to working as a pilot for the rangers, as well as interesting plots with Supernatural. I think you might be surprised at Mac's knew backup on the team as well. (It will NOT be Desi). In my world Jack will _always_ be with Mac. No one could take his place. I miss him on the show already, but hope that I can still keep him here in fiction, as others are doing. I appreciate all the kind reviews and feedback from these MacGyver stories over the years. And I'm grateful to have been a part of the fandom.


	9. Chapter 9

Let's Be Enemies

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Thank you so much for the kind reviews and messages. I hope this wraps up things nicely with a pretty bow. Even though I so missed my Christmas deadline. Of course, it's never too late-or early-for some holiday cheer and heartwarming family time. I also hope this helps with missing Jack yet again this week. I am eventually going to get past it. Hopefully. For those asking, I DO NOT plan on incorporating Desi into my work. So for those worried, don't be. My next story is the continuation of Love Wins, from my For Family AU. And I will be finishing Those We Gather Close after that. Keep your fingers crossed. Sorry if I confused people with my previous Author's Note. I hope to continue to write for MacGyver in some fashion, but will not be following the show. I am looking forward to the clever ways other writers might incorporate Jack into the episodes in tags and such. Write away my friends!

RcJ

JP Dalton glanced up from the latest James Patterson novel he was reading to cut his gaze to his lovely bride of more than fifty years, who was currently fussing over their youngest grandson much like a hen ruffled from her roost. Angus MacGyver might not have been a Dalton by blood but he'd been adopted into their brood nearly eight years prior and could no more deny his lineage now than Jack Jr. could refute his origins. Once Beth set her heart on someone they had little chance to refuse her, let along keep her at a distance. She was all about tactile affection, his woman, meaning if you were in her proximity and was one of hers, you got more than your share of hard hugs and soft hands framing your face along with the occasional stroking of your hair away from your eyes and tender kisses planted on your forehead whether you were a grown man or child and no mind if you damn well wanted them or not.

"I swear I'm fine, Nana." Mac was saying and when he briefly met JP's gaze there was a silent plea for back-up in his blue eyes which as a wise man who'd been blessed to walk the earth for seventy plus years JP sagely ignored. He averted his gaze right back to the pages of Patterson, in a move he'd seen their dogs use when they didn't want to be seen, as if merely looking away allowed them to disappear from sight and avoid any accusation coming their way.

It wasn't that he was heartless. On the contrary. JP loved the boy fiercely, would lay his life down in an instant if the kid was in real danger from anything besides being overwhelmed with Beth's affection, but he also wasn't stupid enough to put himself between a mama bear and one of her ailing cubs. Him getting torn to shreds right before Christmas Eve dinner would have been a mighty shame and wouldn't do either of them one bit of good. Besides he was enjoying having his boys under roof almost as much as he was loving his Irish coffee. The soft Christmas music playing in the background was far preferable to any lecture he was sure to invoke for interrupting Beth's well-meaning ministrations. JP wasn't in any rush to be banished to the barn by the queen of the castle.

"Angus, I know you're as hearty as they come," Beth said, her tone warm and sweet like honey fresh from the comb, "But give this old woman's mind some peace and just get some rest before supper. You boys are hard on my fragile heart. If it's not some war you're running off to, it's an ailment you're succumbing from. If I didn't know better I'd swear you both were in competition to see who could test me more."

JP nearly choked on his coffee at his bride's breathiness and tendency for melodrama. She always adopted her Scarlett O'hara voice when playing the role of martyred matron, though she yielded from hearty stock out of the mountains of Tennessee and not genteel society from the plantations of Georgia. He quickly covered the slip with a well-timed clearing of his throat and noisy turning of a page when Beth shot him a very familiar warning look over her shoulder. He kept quiet, not pointing out that Beth had a constitution as strong as her 'boys' and could probably best them both if she set her mind to it. She took yoga and did Tai Chi regularly at the YMCA, as well as forcing JP on evening strolls through the woods which she claimed were to spice up their marriage. The hikes were hardcore training instead of a romantic gesture, with far more cardio taking place than canoodling. He was keen to her wiles, but kept his eyes on the book and left his grandson on his own.

"The last thing we'd want to do is test you, Nana," Angus returned assuredly. "I promise I'm warm enough and I'm good so please don't worry." The boy sounded almost desperate. "I can go help Jack with the horses. Really. I haven't seen Treaty yet."

"Absolutely not." JP cut his gaze at the hint of exasperation in his wife's tone. He slyly watched her tug the blanket up higher on Mac's chest, ruffling Lilly who'd curled her 80 pound Labrador body on Mac's legs, pinning him in place. Beth wasn't the only lady of the house who was thrilled to have a certain kid home and was determined to keep him in sight. Dodger who'd been napping in his bed by the crackling fire, snorted, rousing and readjusted his girth so close to the flames that JP was afraid the smell of bacon would soon be filling the air to compete with the delicious aromas coming from Beth's kitchen.

"All we need is you pulling some stitches or getting an infection," Beth clucked. "Treaty will be there tomorrow. You've been travelling all day. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you. Don't do that to me, Angus Reed MacGyver."

"That petition sounds familiar," Mac muttered, pushing the blanket down a little with an obvious pout to his tone.

"What was that?" Beth's voice held just a touch of warning, and JP nearly chuckled when Mac quickly responded with a glum, but contrite reframing.

"I said, yes mam."

"Good." Beth was once more sounded pleased as punch and JP smiled at her obvious delight in having one of her chicks safely tucked under her wing. She reached up and brushed the boy's long bangs away from his forehead, her hand lingering against his cheek as she beamed at him though he caught the small frown that formed on her forehead. If JP wasn't mistaken Mac didn't look half as flustered as he pretended. He might have even leaned into his grandmother's touch, like even the most skittish of horses tended to do when Beth was tending to them. "Now I'm going back to the kitchen to finish up desert before I get ready for church."

"Cherry pie?" Angus asked hopefully as if he had any doubt.

"What else would I make seeing as how it's your favorite."

"Peach cobbler would be nice." JP didn't quite keep his voice low enough and he had both gazes swinging his way, Beth's narrowed and Angus's twinkling with amusement and a hint of gloating.

He looked at them over the rim of his reading glasses, not backing down this time. "Some of your boys aren't as fond of cherry pie, woman."

"Some of my boys didn't have surgery and nearly expire from a raving infection." Beth said curtly. "Nor did one in particular bother to call me and inform me what was going on with Angus. I may never peel peaches for Wyatt again. I'll sell all our yield at the Farmer's Market this spring instead."

"Jack didn't call because there was nothing you could have done, Nana. He didn't want to worry you," Mac assured. " _I_ didn't want to worry you."

"Nothing I could have done?" Beth's voice went high and JP quickly downed another drink of his doctored coffee. She propped her hands on her hips. He'd already been privy to this particular vent when their eldest grandson had called with the news that they would be arriving late because Angus had underwent surgery for a ruptured appendix. "Wyatt knows better. I could have prayed! I could have had my Sunday school class sisters praying. Never doubt the power of courting the Lord's intervention, Angus. You might have very well avoided a relapse all together."

"Or she could have hopped a plane to Los Angeles to boss the doctors and nurses around." JP injected, his eyes once more on the book. He blamed the whiskey for his boldness. "She has miles racked up with 'The Delta'." He added the last part in a fairly decent imitation of his wife's best southern belle drawl.

"Keep that up, John Paul Dalton and they'll be no pumpkin pie tomorrow either." Beth rose lithely from her perch on the edge of the sofa. She leaned over to once more slide her fingers across Mac's hair any slight on his part quickly forgotten. JP didn't miss the wink she shot the kid. "We'll have more cherry pie instead."

"Sounds good to me." Mac beamed and JP got the distinct impression he was being paid back for not intervening on the boy's behalf earlier.

"Rest now. Supper will be on the table soon." Beth turned to JP who quickly went from glaring at his grandson to smiling fondly at his lovely bride. She pointed a finger at him. "You are in charge of keeping him right where he is, because despite that sweet, innocent face, I have no doubt the minute my back is turned and I'm tucked away in the kitchen he's liable to show himself a true Dalton, just foolish enough to try and abscond to the barn against my better judgment."

Angus showed the good sense not to deny his grandmother's accusations and JP followed suit by nodding, giving his most genteel. "Yes, Darlin'."

It earned him an affectionate roll of whiskey-colored eyes as well as a quick brush of a kiss on his forehead as she sashayed by his recliner, quite full of herself. He turned to Angus as soon as Beth was out of earshot, the smell of vanilla and lavender still lingering faintly with them in the room.

"Wyatt's going to be sorely disappointed that you didn't speak up for some peach cobbler, son."

"Wyatt's not the only one." The kid shifted, his jaw clenching for a moment when the movement seemed to pull on his side. He reached down to flip the bottom of the blanket over Lilly so she was covered as well before turning his blue gaze on JP, grinning, dimple winking at his cheek. " _I_ was disappointed when you decided not to speak up for me going to help out Jack in the barn. What happened to the Dalton men having one another's back no matter what? That's what you've told me from the first day I came here. We're supposed to watch out for each other."

"What did I also tell you all those years ago?" JP waited, knowing the boy could likely recall verbatim the conversation they'd had nearly 8 years prior. Their first encounter was still vivid in his mind as well, impressed in his memory like the treasured dried wild flowers Beth kept in her Bible. It was as easy to recall as the day his son had held Jack Jr up in the hospital nursery window for him and Beth to see more than forty years passed now.

The boy's brow furrowed and when he spoke it was with a damn impressive Texas drawl of his own. "Horses can see straight to a man's soul, son."

JP chuckled at what had stuck. "Well, that'll preach, but I'm not talking about the philosophical, I'm talking about the one survival skill to living on the ranch that I imparted and I'm not talking about watching your fingers during feeding or keeping out from behind the meaner-spirited mares."

"Never cross Beth."

"There it is." JP put his Patterson aside, removing his glasses to toss them on top of the book. "Wyatt always says you're as smart as a pig."

Dodger grunted in his sleep, snorting as if he was somehow well aware they were referencing his kind.

"Well some research suggests pigs' intelligence far exceeds that of dogs, that they're more on par with chimpanzees." Angus ran one of his hands over Lilly's head as he spoke. "It still doesn't go beyond that of a toddler so forgive me if I'm not flattered."

"Swine may be smarter than a dog, but they're nowhere near as loyal. Their bellies rule them." JP pointed to Lilly whose liquid brown eyes were looking adoringly up at Mac as he moved onto rubbing her velvety ears. "Dogs are all heart. Ol'Dodger over there would sell us both down the river for a strawberry or a piece of apple any day of the week."

"Yet, he has the biggest bed by the fireplace," Angus teased, flashing a knowing smirk to JP, who had been the one to rescue the piglet from a dire fate several years before. "Don't worry, old man. I'd never betray you or Jack for cherry pie."

"And I'd never leave you hanging if I thought you were truly in need of a rescue, son." JP rubbed a hand over his mustache, studying the boy. In the soft glow of the thousand plus Christmas lights Beth had strung around the great room, he looked pale, except for the violet shadows under his eyes. His blue eyes were brighter than usual, and JP felt his own flash of worry that Angus wasn't as well as he let on. "You know Beth is only worried about you."

"I know she is," Angus acknowledged with a genuine smile.

He was no longer the rangy nineteen-year-old kid Jack had brought home from the desert, offering him up to them with the same kind of pride shining in his eyes as his own daddy had beamed that fateful morning in the hospital nursery. JP would never forget the way Beth gripped his hand in hers, her breath catching as they stood on the front porch. The touch of hope brimming in her gaze as she looked from the bedraggled boys to her husband had been undeniable. JP hadn't needed her to explain to him later that night what she'd been thinking when Jack introduced them, although she had done so as they'd lain together in the dark listening to the sounds of boys and life in their home once more.

Like him, she'd been terrified the war was going to rob them of the last piece of their son, cruelly take Wyatt from them just like his daddy had been taken, but instead it seemed to have provided another chance, another grandson to love. A sure sign of God's mercy, his goodness, she'd whispered against JP's shoulder. _Like Jonah coughed up on the beach by the old whale,_ Beth's sleepy voice from the past still rang in his ears. He cleared his throat, pulling himself from the memory. He eyed Mac with a slight frown. "Besides there's no shame in a man needing some care from time to time, Angus."

"But I'm fine," the kid assured once more, a touch of weariness in his those words as if he'd grown tired of repeating the phrase time and again. He'd already parroted them by rote at least ten times that JP knew of since he and Wyatt had arrived earlier that afternoon. The dark shadows beneath his glassy eyes and the slump of his posture betrayed him though, telling the truth of the matter. JP was glad the boys would be staying for a couple of weeks, giving their youngest time to properly heal.

"I'm sure that is partly honest." JP had no doubt that physically Angus was indeed on the mend, and given the proper care and feeding would heal up just fine. fine. He suspected, _knew_ in fact, the boy had been through far worse things. Wyatt had told him heart-aching, terrifying stories about their time in the war, sharing them during unguarded moments on long rides, or around the campfire when they'd been granted a rare trip together. He also time to time hinted of other incidents on their job, the one that was supposedly at a safe think tank in Los Angeles. The wounds the boys often came home baring suggested there was no such place as the mythical Phoenix, nor did the two of them sit in office cubicles trying to solve the world's intellectual problems. If it existed, it was far from harmless, and JP was damn sure Wyatt and Angus weren't passive employees. He scratched his chin. "A man can be sound of body, but need some extra care for his heart and soul just the same, son."

"Like when I first came here." Mac's gaze met JP's.

The admission was raw and vulnerable, the gaze not as guarded as usual. It caught JP by surprise and he was once more reminded of how much Angus had indeed changed. The boy had been friendly, certainly, and respectful that first visit, but he'd been completely closed off and cagey in a way that had JP instantly thinking of those rare horses he'd never been quite able to reach. Those who'd been harmed so deeply early on by thoughtless, cruel men that they were forever hobbled, sometimes physically, almost always emotionally. The ones JP would finally turn out on borders of the ranch to roam feral and free. It made him wary for Wyatt those first few days, when he could see his boy already loved Angus MacGyver with a fierce abandon that had always defined Wyatt's nature. Much like Beth, once Wyatt claimed a body as family, he wasn't prone to let them go, even if it might have been better on his heart to do so.

The concern had proved for no reason, as not only had Angus grown over the years into his long legs and arms, filled out and muscled up much like the finest foals on the ranch. But like the best of horses, he'd also come into his own in allowing himself to not only to trust another, but to form a bond with Wyatt that went beyond that of friends, into the bounds of brotherhood and unconditional love. It was an exceptional animal and a brave man who risked such closeness.

JP leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You were a kid wrestling a lot of demons back then, bud."

Mac nodded, seemingly unoffended by the gentle reminder of how far he'd come. "I was pretty messed up."

"As any man fresh from war would be." JP, as the youngest boy of several brothers, had never served in battle, but he understood the damage it could do. Had witnessed it first with his boy, Jack, and then with Wyatt and Angus. As terrible as that second hand knowledge had proven to be, JP was well aware the hell a direct experience allowed. He'd have done anything to spare them. All three of them.

"I was pretty messed up before I went to the Army." Mac's self-deprecating smile didn't quite disguise the lines of pain the confession brought. He cleared his throat, rubbing a hand over his weary eyes.

"As most eighteen-year-old kids are, son." JP winked at him, determined to put his mind at ease. As far as JP was concerned Angus MacGyver had few faults. "From what I've heard, you had it much more together than most. If your Nana Beth hadn't found me during that time in my growing, no telling where I'd ended up roaming, or what kind of man I might have become. You sure wouldn't have found me at a fancy college like MIT or signing up to serve my country. Hell, I might still be on the rodeo circuit or running the range as a bandito if she hadn't set my course straight."

"Jack changed the trajectory of my life, too." Angus's grin was more genuine, and JP imagined he was entertaining the ridiculous vision of the old man before him still busting broncs or riding the border as if it were the still the 1800's Old West instead of the last days 2018.

"I'd say you both changed each other for the better," JP interjected. He loved Angus for many reasons that had to do with the man he was- the one Mac himself couldn't quite see- but he would also be forever grateful for him because of what he gave Wyatt. His eldest grandson had been lost after his father up and died on them and was could have headed in a dire direction. JP had more than once questioned the wisdom of Wyatt returning to the Army and his post in Delta so soon after the devastating loss, as if he were daring fate to take him out as well, or as Beth put it, shaking his fist at God.

"Changing Jack is sort of like totally grasping the fundamental principles of quantum mechanics," Angus chuckled at his own joke, which went mostly over JP's head as he had little experience in anything on the quantum spectrum.

"Mind boggling?" He raised a brow, guessing that the boy's explanation if he would go into it would be full of irony and metaphor, but also beyond his ability to grasp completely because of its complexity.

"Impossible." Mac grinned. "Jack is Jack. He always seems to know exactly who he is and where he's supposed to be, and what he's supposed to do. I don't think I could have stopped him from becoming my best friend, even if I had wanted to. In fact, I'm pretty sure I made it as difficult for him as possible."

"He gets that tenacity from his grandmother as well. The woman has always known her mind." JP rubbed a thumb over his wedding band, glancing over his shoulder to be certain his bride was still in the kitchen. "She set her eye on me and that was it."

Angus snorted. "That's not exactly how I've heard that story told. As Beth recalls, you nearly fell off your horse the first time you saw her. She was promised to someone else, I believe, but you wouldn't take no for an answer. She said you followed her like a hound to three different towns, attending her father's tent revivals despite being Catholic."

"We all have our truths, Angus." JP had heard his wife's take on their courtship and despite most of it being correct, a man had his pride to maintain, especially in front of his grandson. "That woman is prone to exaggerating a story to pull an audience in. She's a master at the art of embellishment."

"That sounds like someone else I know," Angus conceded with a clear look of affection and JP appreciated that the boy was willing to let him off the hook.

"Just another thing she has in common with Wyatt." JP picked up his coffee again, took a long drink. It had grown cold but the whiskey still warmed his bones. "But despite their propensity for lavish recanting, they're both as solid and steady as that hundred-year-old oak out by the lake all the kids like to swing on, as sure and certain as the sunrise each morning."

"Jack is the most constant person I have ever known," Angus mused. "Compared to him, I sometimes feel more like the tumbleweeds that get blown around out there on the range." The kid looked towards the picture window. It was blocked by the massive decorated Douglas fir with the pile of presents beneath, but Angus's gaze seemed to go beyond the Christmas tree to something only he could see. JP felt a punch to his gut, an almost physical tug on the line of kinship he'd developed with the boy. Maybe it was the fact they'd had similar stories growing up, fathers that were worthless and cruel in different ways, but that had yielded similar effects on their sons.

"You've got roots with Wyatt, son. With Wilt and our girl, Riley. With me and Beth." JP nodded to the mantle over the crackling fireplace and Angus followed his gaze. Framed photographs of different sizes were lined up, a pictorial representation of who belonged in the Dalton home, but more importantly, who was always present in JP's and Beth's hearts whether they were physically present around the dinner table or not. More than a few of those frames held images of a certain blond kid with eyes the color of the Texas sky.

"Jack's leaving Phoenix." The words tumbled out and if the look of surprise on Angus's face was any indication when JP whipped his head to gaze at him he hadn't meant to spout them. A wince spoke to how he instantly wished he could take them back.

"You don't say." JP kept his tone neutral, understanding a little better the spooked look Angus was carrying, the inner turmoil he'd picked up on. If Angus had been a horse, he'd have come home with his ears laid back, eyes roiling and cantering nervously out of reach anytime someone drew too close.

"He was going to tell you." The boy toyed with the blanket covering his legs. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"I'm sure Wyatt won't mind you spilling the beans." JP waited for the kid to look at him. When he did, JP tilted his head slightly, treading carefully. "This sudden decision to leave your place of business have anything to do with your daddy?"

Angus visibly tensed, Lilly lifted her head, letting loose a soft whine as his hands curled into fists around the blanket. "This is all James's fault."

JP took note that Angus used his father's first name, the harsh tone in which it was spoken. He sighed, hating that the man he'd met in the summer was still causing trouble, stirring up things for his son. "It's hard to have two headstrong horses yoked together on the same wagon, bud. Makes for a hell of a bumpy ride. They're inevitably going to want to go in their own direction. It never ends well for the passengers."

"None of this is Jack's doing. He was only protecting me." The boy's eyes flashed and JP wondered at what exactly had taken place to stoke the rare heat he saw now. "James kept pushing until he found the right button. Jack pushed back. Then he didn't exactly have a choice in leaving."

"James fired him?" JP felt his own anger flare to life, fueled by the very idea that MacGyver had acted against the very man who'd basically been doing _his_ job-and not the one he was paid to do-for the past eight years by taking care of Angus and providing what the boy's father had failed to give.

"Jack should explain." Angus hesitated, obviously unsure of how much or what specifics Wyatt might want to divulge. He blinked, his earlier anger doused by a deep regret that had JP's own ire cooling quickly, afraid the boy might have misread his feelings and thought they were aimed towards him as if he were somehow to blame for anything his father might have done. "I'm sorry," he added.

"I'm pretty damn sure there's nothing for you to be sorry about, son." JP wanted to make certain the boy understood there was no way he'd hold him accountable for anything James did, or for what Wyatt got up to for that matter. As Angus had said earlier, Jack was Jack. "I'm also certain that whatever Wyatt did in this situation, it was the right thing to do if it kept you safe. He's too much of a Dalton to always behave as he should, but when he's acting on your account, I trust his judgment completely. Consequences be damned. I also know he'd probably tell you the same thing."

"He has." A small smile twitched at the boy's mouth and he looked relieved, as if the confession had been weighing on him. It made JP angry all over again that James MacGyver could cause his son to doubt the place he had with them, that Angus might ever consider that he could lose his position in their family by making one wrong misstep. "You know Jack. He's said it a couple of times over."

"Then you should listen to him." JP nodded, proud of his grandson, despite not knowing the specifics. "Wyatt may be a bull-shitter by all rights, but when it comes to his heart, he always says what he means."

"I know he does." Angus was back to staring at his lap, worrying the fringes of the blanket.

"Then you also know, it's a family trait." JP arched a brow, his mustache bristling as his mouth pulled into a grin when the kid looked up again. "Hear me when I say there's nothing more important to Dalton than family."

"Not even chess?"

"Are you challenging me? Throwing out the gauntlet in your compromised state?" JP arched a brow, leaning forward. He recognized the smooth redirect, but knew the boy well enough to know he'd gain nothing by trying to get around it. He folded his arms over his chest, glancing to the heirloom board and finely carved marble pieces his family had collectively given him on his seventieth birthday a few years before where it sat in a place of honor by the fire place before returning his gaze to Angus. His mustache twitched. "Surely not."

"Consider it an early Christmas present, old man." Mac held his gaze. "I'm still on some pain medication and sleepy from all that herbal tea Nana made me drink. You just might stand a chance."

JP chortled at the boy's bravado. "We'll see about that."

RcJ

Jack entered his grandparent's living room after shedding his dirty boots, hat and wet coat in the mud room. Switzer, freshly toweled off from their time in the rain followed him. Beth had shoved a hot cup of coffee in Jack's hands after barring him access to her stove as he'd passed through the kitchen. Instead of any sampling, she'd waved both man and beast off as she instructed him to go check on his boy and her exasperating husband. They'd been far too quiet for far too long she claimed and she expected they'd either fallen asleep or were up to trouble.

Jack found she'd been correct on both points.

Mac was reclined on the couch with Lilly curled across his knees, mouth slightly open, completely out of it. Christmas lights lit the entire room, casting it in a warm glow as Bing Crosby crooned from the stereo. JP was bent over the coffee table that had been pulled between the sofa and his recliner, his treasured chess board set atop it. He was studying the pieces so intently he didn't look up as Switzer settled at his feet.

"Tell me you didn't slip something in the kid's tea, so you could take advantage of the board while he's asleep?" Jack asked quietly as he carefully claimed a seat beside his slumbering partner. Mac didn't move and Jack was unable to resist reaching out and pressing the back of his hand against the kid's pale cheek. His stomach clenched slightly when his partner felt warmer than he should have been. Jack ignored the little voice inside his head that taunted the kid was no longer his partner, making a mental note to keep an eye on the low-grade fever. With a forced grin, he returned his attention to his grandfather whose gaze left the board long enough to narrow his eyes at him.

"Dalton's don't cheat, son." JP kept his voice down as well, frowning at the insult, but appearing more frustrated at his predicament in the game than anything else. "The kid merely fell asleep waiting for me to plot my next move, although I can't swear Beth didn't doctor his drink with one of her DoTERRA combos. I think she realized his temperature was back up."

"Of course she did." Jack wrapped his fingers around the mug in his hand. "What the hell is DoTERRA?" He took a sip, waiting for his grandfather to answer.

"Some pyramid scheme." JP shook his head at Jack, lowering his voice even more. Jack didn't think it was on account of not wanting to disturb Mac. "Don't tell your grandmother I said that. She calls it a multi-level marketing company and hawks the goods to her Sunday school ladies like a modern day miracle elixir salesman. She calls it organic essential oils and crap. Snake oil is more like it if you ask me. I don't rightly know what half of those magic drops are she's plopping in my water these days let alone what she's diffusing in our bedroom, but I can tell you…"

"Please don't talk about your bedroom, grandpa." Jack took another drink of his coffee, shaking his head to ward off any unwanted images of his saintly grandparents as a typical romantic couple, instead preferring to imagine them like Lucy and Desi circa the sixties in their matching twin beds instead of a shared marital space. He sighed as the warm, rich brew fought back the chill that had settled in his bones from being out in the nasty weather, shifting his thoughts to home. He sometimes forgot how spoiled he was by LA and its tendency for perpetual sunshine.

"You asked." JP groused as he sat up, crossing his arms over his chest.

"And I should know better." Jack took another drink, grinning at the old man who had reverted back to glowering at the board.

"The hell with it." JP stroked his mustache thoughtfully, gesturing to the pieces. "Angus could sleep the rest of the evening and I'd still be no damn closer to saving my queen than I am now."

"Well, the rain's picked up and got a serious bite to it, so it's possible we might be snowed in for Christmas." Jack was almost childlike in his relishing of a white Christmas. It was unlikely they'd get more than an inch or two of the snow, but in Texas it didn't take much more than that to shut down civilization. "That might buy you some more time, but I warn you that the kid has no competition when it comes to this damn game. He built a freaking robot with a computer interface for a brain just hoping for a bit of a challenge. Mac still wins against Sparky."

"Your grandma isn't going to let me miss midnight mass tonight for any inclement weather." JP sighed resignedly. He glanced over at Mac. "You may stand a chance of staying home as she'll not want him out and about."

"He's not ten." Jack said gathering the blanket that had spilled into the floor and spreading it over his sleeping friend. An act that totally discounted his point of Mac being an adult perfectly capable of staying home on his own.

"Do I need to remind you that Dalton's also aren't hypocrites, Junior?"

"Point taken." Jack grinned. He couldn't fault his grandmother for doting when he was just as prone to be almost as much of a mother hen. "I've been just as worried about him." _More than usual._

JP leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Which is why you could have knocked me over with a feather when Angus told me you'd had a change in careers."

Jack covered his surprise by glancing down into his coffee mug. He was both taken a little aback and yet warmed by the fact Mac had confided in JP. When he'd gotten a tight grip on his composure Jack flashed his grandfather a grin.

"That's right, grandpa. I'm finally going to be ranger."

"A Texas Ranger?" JP looked shocked, which told Jack his best friend must not have revealed all the details. Mac stirred, but settled again when Jack briefly placed a hand on his shoulder. His grandfather's brow furrowed and he lowered his voice once more. "I recall all those years when you were a little boy, you wearing that shiny tin star, spouting that famous motto your daddy taught you. Like all the finest rangers you were sure you could ride like a Mexican, trail like an Indian, shoot like a Tennesseean and fight like the devil. But I figured you got all that out of your system being in Delta."

Jack chuckled softly at the memory. It was funny how those skills of the legendary Texas Rangers he'd admired as a boy were eerily similar to what he'd trained for in the Army.

"Not a _Texas_ Ranger, JP. A park ranger. In LA county. Mostly I'm a back-up search and rescue pilot." Jack winked at his grandfather. "I'll get my fill of flying-something I've missed lately seeing as how it's in my blood- but if my knack for trouble finding me proves true then I'm sure I'll put some of those other skills to use, too."

JP didn't look amused. "Do I need to go to Los Angeles and have a talk with James?"

"As much as I appreciate your willingness to go and share a few choice words with my former boss, I'm not sure that will help matters none. In fact, it could do more damage." Jack glanced to Mac to make sure the kid was still asleep and not faking it. Convinced his best friend was indeed out, he shot his grandfather a grim glance. "Especially to Mac."

"I'm not keen on James MacGyver taking something that was yours, boy. Something you put blood and sweat into."

"He didn't take any damn thing from me, grandpa. At least not anything important." Jack worked hard to keep the anger from his tone. His gaze went to Mac once more, then back to hold JP's. Losing the job stung, mostly because it prevented Jack from being with his 'kids' on a daily basis, watching their backs in whatever dangerous situation they might land themselves. But Jack was old enough and wise enough to understand that he'd not been stripped of what made the job so worthwhile. He smiled at JP, hoping to erase the old man's scowl. "At most he got in a good swipe. It'll leave a scar. No big deal."

JP's mustache twitched. "Never be ashamed of a scar, boy. It just…"

"Proves you were stronger than whatever or whoever was trying to hurt you," Jack interrupted, finishing the well-ingrained quote.

His grandfather finally grinned, losing some of the tension that had deepened the lines on his weathered face. "And here I was thinking you don't listen to half of what I say."

"I always listen to you," Jack nodded. "That's why I know family is always what matters most. Not some damn job. You taught me that."

"Yeah, I guess I did." JP sighed, running a hand over his mouth, the rare somber look replaced by a more familiar stubborn one. "Still rankles me, though." This time JP nodded to Mac, his voice dropping almost to a whisper. "Whatever James managed to pull, well, it's got the boy tied in knots, back to walking that tightrope he thinks he's always on, the one where one wrong step means he loses someone else he loves. As if we would ever turn tail and run."

"Did he say something…" Jack's gaze went to Mac as well, wondering if he'd missed something. He knew the kid was wrestling with what had happened but hoped he'd finally beat the worst of the demons back by taking the pilot position and moving into Mac's place.

"As if he needs to spill his guts when those eyes of his say all that needs to be conveyed on the matter." JP grunted, waving a hand at the sleeping subject. Mac shifted slightly, curling onto his side, one hand flopping over Lilly, who sighed but didn't open her eyes. JP lowered his voice. "I've been a gambler long enough to read even the poker players best at keeping their cards close to their vest. Your boy is a master at that. But it didn't stop me from seeing the hand he was holding all those years ago, and it certainly hasn't kept his hurt hidden from me this time either. I know his tells as well as yours."

"This whole mess has shaken the kid, JP. I ain't going to lie. But he'll be okay. Sometimes Mac just has to wait for the proof in the pudding before he quits expecting the bottom to fall out."

Jack thought about how his best friend loved mathematical equations for their precise predictability. He got some sort of satisfaction-security, more likely- out of physics, with all its laws and rules. For someone who also embraced improvisation, Mac usually had a firm grasp of what was going to happen once he decided on a course of action. Even if it seemed crazy to everyone else not privy to the master workings in his big old brain, he _always_ knew what was going to happen. He sure as hell didn't appreciate an unknown factor coming into play or anything surprising him. Especially an unexpected outcome like the separation they were now facing, if only it was at work.

Work, after all, had been the basis of their relationship from the beginning. It was what had brought them together, and upon first glance seemed the glue that held the two unlikely men together. They worked seamlessly together from the beginning, despite their bumpy start. Jack's heart to Mac's head, feelings and logic. Jack's protectiveness to Mac's willingness to risk himself for whatever objective they were facing. Jack's tactical expertise to Mac's expertise in every damn thing under the sun. They were good together. Jack would miss it. And he knew the kid felt the pang of that just as deeply, if not more due to the fault he heaped on his own plate.

"You think he's waiting to see if you'll lose interest now that he's not your mission, maybe take off like that scoundrel he ended up with for a father?"

Jack looked up at his grandfather, not bothering to disguise the surprise the question brought, or the stab of pain it delivered. He winced. There was a reason, Jack had never been able to hide a damn thing from the man, excluding the baby raccoon he'd kept in his room for a whole summer when he was ten and the 800-pound horse he'd stolen as a teen and managed to hide for a while. Albeit, his horse Damascus has remained a secret a far shorter time than Bandit.

Jack took a deep breath, an ache in his chest causing it to come out with a bit of a hitch. "I wish I could tell you he trusted me to not give a damn about the job, that he understood that he hasn't been simply a mission since I re-upped for another tour in Hell, but we both know that's probably exactly one of the possibilities swirling around his head."

"What are you going to do about it?"

It was a fair question and one Jack didn't shy away from. His grandfather had gripped his hands around his coffee mug and Jack could see the steely glint of lingering anger in his gray eyes. He knew it was for James, but he also understood JP was waiting for an answer, one that would satisfy his worry and justify him not hopping a flight to LA and having his own form of negotiations with Oversight.

"I've got it covered, grandpa. I swear." Jack forced a confident grin he didn't completely feel. He cut his gaze to Mac and then back to the older man watching him intently. "I'm gonna make sure he gets it through his thick skull that nothing's going to change the fact we're family and he's stuck with me."

"And at work?" JP took a drink of his coffee, still holding Jack's gaze as if not quite convinced. "Do you have _his_ six covered? Riley's and Wilt's as well? I mean I'm sure that lab Angus claims to be holed up in all the time is safe as being nuzzled at his Nana's bosom, but just in case all is not as you boys have painted…"

"Damn, JP," Jack winced. "Do you have to say Nana and bosom in the same breath?"

"I also taught you redirecting, Wyatt." JP smirked, not cutting Jack any slack. "Now answer the damn question."

"I'm working on it." Jack ran a hand through his hair, frustrated that the few people he had on the short list of trusted associates hadn't panned out to join up at Phoenix. James had of course shot down Landry as soon as Matty suggested him as Jack's replacement. Deac had apparently let Oversight know what he thought of his treatment of his employees. He was lucky to maintain his position on the tactical team, but there was no way James would allow him to watch his son's back. "I'll make sure he's protected. Riley and Bozer, too. You know that nothing's more important to me than their safety."

"I do, because I feel the same way about you."

"As long as I have my family, I'm good." Jack swirled the coffee in his cup, glancing up at his grandfather who looked only partially convinced. He drank the last of the brew, sitting the mug on the table before giving the older man what he hoped was his most 'All's good' grin. "Of course, I'm going to be a lot better when I get a big helping of Nana Beth's peach cobbler after her famous Christmas Eve dinner of pork chops and mashed potatoes with all the fixin's."

Dodger snorted awake at the mention of pork chops, grunting and rooting around on his bed before settling once more. Jack shook his head. "I swear sometimes that pig understands what we're saying."

"Angus says they have the IQ of a human toddler." JP seemed amiable this time to letting Jack veer the conversation away from things he couldn't openly speak about.

"The kid would know." Jack shot an affectionate look to his best friend who also stirred once more in his sleep.

"I informed him they were also food driven and loyal only to their stomachs." JP arched a brow. "He said he'd not cotton with the idea of selling a loved one out for the likes of a strawberry, but that didn't seem to hold water when he hopped on your Nana's plan to have cherry pie for desert."

"Nana often fixes a few desserts." Jack looked hopeful, but frowned when his grandfather shook his head.

"Not tonight, bud." JP reached out and slapped Jack's leg. He stood, stretching with some audible pops telling of his time in the recliner. He looked down at his grandson. "You might as well fill your belly with P.O.R.K." JP spelled the word this time, apparently out of respect for Dodger. "You'll learn to call your grandmother next time the kid is in the hospital."

"If I called her every time the kid was…" Jack started only to shut his mouth wisely when his grandfather's brow furrowed, his eyebrows jacking towards his swatch of gray hair that flopped over his forehead. He cleared his throat. "I mean I didn't want to worry her."

"As I told Angus earlier, Beth- despite claims of her frail constitution- is as strong as they come."

"I'll do what I can, grandpa."

"You see that you do."

Beth chose that moment to appear in the doorway as if they'd conjured her by speaking her name. Jack smiled at the apron she was wearing. A similar one to Bozer's, only it was hot pink and proclaimed in white swirly letters that 'Mrs. Goodlookin was Cookin'. They had both been presents from Riley and demonstrated their hackers often understated sense of humor.

"If you two are done with your hen party, I could use a hand in the kitchen setting the table with the good China."

"Now, woman," JP turned to his wife, his voice still low but filling with feigned gruffness and more than a hint of affection, "there's only one hen strutting and clucking about in this here roost, and we all know it's you."

"Best you don't forget it," Beth conceded with a knowing grin. She waved her husband along, her gaze softening as she looked to Mac still stretched out on the couch and then staring at Jack. "You boys wash up and come along soon, Wyatt. His fever is back up," Beth added, her face suddenly mirroring Jack's earlier concern. "He can take some more medicine when he wakes up now that supper is nearly done."

"I'll make sure that he does, Nana."

"I know you take good care of him, Wyatt." She smiled at him then, and Jack felt a pang of guilt at knowing he wouldn't be able to do so much, not anymore.

Before he could get too maudlin, both dogs perked up at the mention of dinner. Jack was convinced Dodger wasn't the only ranch animal capable of understanding as Switzer sprang from the floor and even Lilly abandoned her post by Mac's side to follow Beth back into the kitchen. Jack watched his best friend roll over as the dog jostled him and it was only seconds before bright blue eyes were blearily regarding him.

"Tell me you're not watching me sleep." Mac groaned, his voice rough from sleep He rubbed a hand over his face. "You know that is creepy roommate behavior 101, right?"

"Like Bozer wasn't guilty of gazing adoringly at you when you were drooling on your pillow." Jack snorted, crossing his arms over his chest to keep from reaching out to help the younger man when it was clear that Mac was struggling to make it to sitting with his still tender side, his face a carefully constructed mask Jack knew all too well. It was the one donned to hide pain. Jack let it slide, knowing his best friend needed to feel like he was completely healed, although they both knew better. The evidence plainly displayed before him in one rumpled, flush-faced genius.

"I expect better from you." Mac rubbed at his eyes, blinking. He swiped a hand over his mouth, obviously checking for the non-existent drool Jack had teased him about.

Jack chuckled, ducking his head. "I hope your faith is warranted, brother. In the roommate department I may let you down. You know I can't cook worth a damn, albeit a little better than you."

Mac frowned. "There's always takeout. We survived MRE's. I think we'll manage without Bozer to play chef."

"We could always have Nana Beth come for a visit, cook us up like a whole winter's worth of meals to keep in the freezer." Jack would have to consider having his grandparents over for a long visit, seeing as how his schedule would be somewhat more predictable. He'd just have to make sure JP stayed away from Phoenix. He grinned at Mac when the kid's stomach growled loudly. "Might actually fatten you up, kiddo."

Mac rolled his eyes, but he brought an arm over his stomach, whether to ward off the hunger pains or an ache from his incision Jack wasn't sure. "Or you could just take some cooking classes with all the free time you're going to have between piloting search and rescue missions for the park service and hunting down vampires and werewolves with the Winchesters."

"Ha ha." Jack scoffed at the jab. Mac had not been overly thrilled about Jack's meeting with Dean, which he'd explained over their dinner of cheeseburgers and chili fries the previous night but Bozer had been thrilled at the prospect, the Winchesters having left a lasting impact on the 'horror genre' loving movie buff. "I told you I prefer to look at that last job as contract work. It's going to be like running new recruits through tactical at Phoenix, dude. I might even set up a Brotherhood Boot Camp. Nothing out of the ordinary for me."

Mac's pale face grew serious and Jack could read the lines of genuine worry. "Only our experience with The Brotherhood proves that nothing is 'ordinary' where they're concerned." Mac sighed, pulling the blanket a little higher as if he was cold. "Their lives are completely beyond the scope of the normal person, Jack. They don't adhere to the same governing forces that bind society."

"And our lives…" Jack lowered his voice further," of jetting around the globe, pretending to be who or whatever we need for the situation, saving the world and protecting people in the way that we've done for the past eight years is what you would consider normal and in the range of what most people understand and comprehend about our world."

"I at least consider it in the parameters of sanity." Mac huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. In that moment he looked tired. Not for the first time Jack noticed the lines around the kid's eyes, a sure sighn that all his pretenses of being completely well were not true. Jack was once more grateful that Matty had given their team-Mac's team-a break until the first of the year. "I'm not so convinced that Dean and his 'hunters' aren't completely delusional."

"They saved your life, Mac."

"Which is what frustrates me." Mac rushed to explain when Jack opened his mouth to object, frowning stubbornly. "I appreciate that they saved my life-although I'm still not willing to accept the explanation they gave us to how I recovered so quickly."

"You still holding onto that mass hallucination theory, brother?" Jack was the one to roll his eyes now. He was careful to keep his voice low. "You were run through with a sword. I didn't imagine your bleeding out in my arms, Angus. It wasn't some sleight of hand and trick of the eye. We've seen plenty of masters of illusion in Vegas shows. Their pal Castiel wasn't some David Copperfield."

"I'm not arguing the existence of angels with you, Jack." Mac leaned closer, whispering now, an arm going to his side as the movement seemed to pull at his bad side. "All I'm saying is that I don't want you feeling indebted to them for my life, so much so that you would risk yours unnecessarily. This isn't some Wookie Life Debt that you owe Dean."

"Mac, I swear this isn't some obligation that I'm trying to fulfill." At least not to Dean. Jack needed a way to protect Mac, but he would have also been lying if he said he didn't feel a certain kinship to the younger man who sat at the helm of The Brotherhood. He knew part of it was the fact that Dean had been responsible for saving Mac not once, but twice, both times when Jack failed on his part as Overwatch. Dean Winchester was cocky as hell, but he was a man who understood family and the lengths a person would go to in the pursuit of preserving of it. Then there was Sam Winchester. Smart. Loyal. Still a little innocent. He reminded Jack of Mac in so many ways. Caleb Reaves lived by a code Jack understood. He was a killer. Just as Jack was a killer. Soldier. Knight. All around bad asses. They fascinated Jack and with the loss of Phoenix maybe he needed a place to belong.

"Then what's it about?" Mac gave him a questioning look.

"Hell, kid, I'm not even sure I understand it all myself." Jack ran a hand over his hair, feeling a slight tug in the mostly healed wound on his shoulder. Hefting bales of hay had actually felt good but he'd used muscles he hadn't in a while. He arched a brow at Mac. "But I swear when I figure it out, you'll be the first to know."

After a long moment of silence with Mac holding his gaze without blinking, his best friend finally nodded. "No secrets."

"No secrets." Jack held up his hand, mimicking the Boy Scouts oath.

Mac's mouth twitched. "You were never a Boy Scout."

"Better than being kicked out of the pack." Jack nudged Mac's knee knowingly. "Did you even earn one badge?"

"Who needs a merit badge when I have a magic silver ring from a secret society of supernatural hunters." Mac's voice was full of sarcasm as he touched the t-shirt he was wearing. Jack knew he was referring to the chain around his neck holding the ring Winchester had given him. He'd refused to wear it, but at least agreed at Jack's request to keep it with him, on him at all times. The older explained it offered protection-though Jack wasn't completely sure on the technicalities of how it did so-and it would make him feel better knowing that Mac had it, especially when Jack wasn't around.

Jack absently ran his thumb over the band he was wearing. Maybe it was his imagination but there was an odd charge to the metal, one that sent a powerful current resonating along his arm, right to the center of his chest. When he looked up Mac was studying him.

"I know you think it's superstitious and silly, but it's really no different than our dog tags."

Mac's brows raised in challenge. "Our dog tags identified us as soldiers."

"You made my point for me, brother." Jack grinned. "Winchester says these do the same things. And even you have to admit it was cool as hell how he made them out of that shot of whiskey."

"It was a great illusion." Mac flashed Jack a grin, genuine this time because his dimple showed. "No one, including Dean Winchester can make metal from water or any other liquid for that matter. Alchemy isn't possible."

"If I agree that Dean's on par with Criss Angel can we let this drop for now. It's Christmas and I for one and so damn glad to be spending this one at home with you, JP and Nana." Jack once more fought to keep his hands to himself as Mac shivered. He didn't need tactile confirmation of the persistent low grade fever and in Mac's current mood he'd liable to find himself missing some fingers.

"You're just glad not to be having Bozer's Pastrami," Mac huffed.

"True," Jack laughed. "We both know he'll probably find a way to work it into Nana's New Year's Day menu when he and Riley come next week."

"Maybe," Mac acknowledged, leaning back against the cushioned sofa. "But maybe getting an earlier Christmas gift might take your mind off having to ring in the New Year with Boze _and_ Billy Colton."

"It's possible." Jack looked over at the tree, eyeing the wealth of gifts and Bathsheba, Nana Beth's hairless cat, who was draped across one of the bigger boxes like she was guarding an ancient Egyptian tomb. He thought she was creepy as hell, but Riley would instantly fall in love with the odd kitten. Thoughts of his girl brought a grin. Jack wasn't really even that upset that Riley's boyfriend would be joining them for the New Year. He was just glad to have the promise of all his 'kids' together to ring in 2019.

Jack returned his gaze to Mac and then shot a dubious look toward the kitchen. "But you know how Nana feels about early gifting and snooping. She catches us under that tree and both of us will be getting lumps of coal in our stockings, and maybe upside our heads."

"Your gift isn't under the tree." Mac reached into the pocket of his flannel shirt and pulled out a slip of folded paper. "Nana will never know I broke tradition."

Jack took the paper with a look of suspicion. "Is this some kind of lease agreement? A roommate contract?"

"Just open it." Mac shook his head, an amused twinkle in his eyes that lifted some of the weariness from his face.

Jack did as his best friend said, frowning as he realized what he was holding. "This is an action order from Human Resources at Phoenix."

"Complete with hire date." Mac leaned forward to tap the bottom where a name was bolded. "Check out our newest team member."

Jack read the name, not quite comprehending. "Boxer?" He looked at Mac. The paper listed Claude Marion Boxer as Jack's official replacement. The man had served in Delta with Jack, but even before that they'd been childhood friends in Texas. Boxer had stayed on in Afghanistan for a few more tours after Jack and Mac had left. He later ended up heading a division for Hammond, one that advised Joint Forces on highest clearance missions. "But how?"

"I told you I talked to Hammond," Mac explained, relaxing back against the cushions, one arms still curled over his belly. "When he heard what had happened at Phoenix, and how you were forced out as overwatch, he was more than willing to let Box temporarily relocate to Phoenix on special assignment-his mission open-ended, meaning he's ours as long as we need him."

"And Oversight agreed to this?" Jack couldn't quite believe what Mac was telling him. It seemed too good to be true.

Mac shrugged. "He shot down Matty's other picks of Landry and your friend-what was her name, Desi something-but this suggestion came from higher up. Even a higher pay-grade than James."

"Damn." Jack felt the heavy load he'd been carrying since his dismissal lighten, his grin widening with the relief. He hadn't really expected James to okay Landry taking his place, not with his loyalty to Jack made well known in the foundation. Desi had been an outsider, a former Ranger, Jack had helped out of scrape once and owed him. She was a wild card and prickly as hell, but also someone Jack knew as capable of providing the cover his team would need. But Boxer? Marion was like a brother to Jack. He loved Mac, too. Boxer was family. Jack looked up at his best friend. "Kid, this is…"

"A big load off your shoulders?" Mac surprised him by reaching out and squeezing one of said shoulders. "I know you didn't want to leave Phoenix, or our team. I also know you're still going to worry even with Boxer along with us, but I also know you trust him to do whatever it takes to keep us safe. It's the second best thing to actually having you watching my back."

Jack gave a sharp nod, a gleam in his gaze. The Christmas lights around him were blurred to a dizzying rainbow glow. "You'll even get to still hear the lovely Texas drawl."

"Right." Mac snorted, the genuine humor easing some of the tight lines of discomfort around his eyes. "Along with the annoying nickname."

"Which one might that be?" Jack raised a brow, knowing exactly which one Mac was thinking about. "Carl's Junior? Shepherd?" Hollywood? Or ..." Jack drew it out. "Baby Brother?"

"What have I done?" Mac pantomimed a painful wince.

"Made my Christmas, that's what you've done, hoss." Jack put the piece of paper in his own pocket. It wasn't the same as being with his team, but Boxer was a temporary solution he could more than get behind. He reached out and ruffled the kid's hair, loving the annoyed huff it garnered. "Thanks, Butch."

Mac slapped his hand away, smoothing his rumpled strands back into place, his movements still a bit slower than normal. But he couldn't quite hide his grin. "You're welcome, Sundance."

"You boys ready to eat?" JP appeared in the doorway, having donned his own apron. It read 'Requires Constant Supervision' and had also been a gift from Riley. He looked at Jack. "Go clean up, Wyatt. Food's on the table and your grandmother won't let us touch a damn thing until we're all seated and have said Grace. At this rate I'm going to be eating my desert during midnight mass on the back pew at St. Mary's."

At the mention of food being on the table Dodger snorted to life, letting out a little squeal as he lifted his large girth from beside the hearth and made a b-line for the kitchen, grunting in glee. JP had to step out of the way or risk being bowled over by the charging pig.

"Smarter than a two-year but would stampede me for a biscuit in a heartbeat." He shook his head, following in the animal's wake.

"We're coming, Grandpa." Jack stood, offering his best friend a hand up. He lowered his voice, muttering under his breath. "But I don't understand why I have to get cleaned up."

Mac laughed, accepting the offered hand. "Because you smell like a horse."

"I could damn sure eat a horse right now." Jack growled, steadying the kid, when Mac wavered slightly.

"I wouldn't let Raucus or Treaty hear you say that."

"Like they know what I'm thinking."

"Grandpa says they can see straight to a man's soul."

Jack felt a warmth spread through him at the casual slip, the certainty in Mac's voice as he spoke without realizing how he'd referred to 'JP'. It brought a different kind of assurance than the one Boxer's hire had supplied. A certainty that while Jack's place might be usurped in the mission field, the kid mostly got that his position in Jack's life, in his family was not in jeopardy. It was permanent. Untouchable.

"Sort of like Matty." Jack joked, tossing an arm over the kid's shoulder as they slowly walked.

"I'm going to tell her you said that."

"Like I'm afraid of her." Jack snorted. "She's no longer the boss of me."

"We'll see." Mac elbowed him, as he made a move for the best seat at the long wooden farm table, the one right in front of Nana Beth's big basket of hot biscuits.

Jack grinned as he watched his grandmother reach over and grab Mac's hand, JP shooing the dogs away from his chair before joining them.

"Yeah, we'll see, bud," he echoed, quietly.

And they would. As always. Together.

The End!

A/N: Finally! Thanks to Mary who added so much to this conclusion. And to Gib, who let me borrow her wonderful original character, Boxer. If you have not read her amazing works, you must!


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